


The Cabin

by Ladybughanlen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:33:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladybughanlen/pseuds/Ladybughanlen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Dean is a retired Hunter living in a peaceful mountain cabin.  Sam is searching for someone and gets lost in the snow.  Together they find an unexpected connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester leans back against the headboard and sighs in contentment.  Its nice to finally relax and enjoy the warmth of an open fire and a cozy cabin.  It’d been a lot of backbreaking work and there’d been days when he didn’t think he was going to get it all done, but looking around his place now he’s proud of what he’s accomplished.  

Everything from the blue and white checked curtains to the custom stone fireplace that dominates the center of the room.  Each detail large and small bore his mark.  He is home at last.  Dean stretches his legs out and sighs again.

He built the queen bed frame himself.  He left off the foot board so he could hang his feet over the edge toward the fire when he felt like it.  It’s also tall enough to store his weapons trunk underneath and he especially likes having everything close at hand.  With a soft pillow top mattress and extra pillows he’s in heaven every time he climbs into bed.  

He has two mismatched nightstands, one on each side, refurbished with lamps that don’t match but work.  He has a tall dresser and a small free standing wardrobe that he traded some handy man work for a few months back.  He refinished them both with a soft honey glaze that always makes the old cabin feel warmer somehow.   

Dean adjusts the covers and gets comfortable.  From his perch he can lean to the right and see past the fireplace into the kitchen.  The large window over the sink offers a view of the barn and mountains behind the cabin.  The bathroom is to his left along with a small square living space.  

The front door stands directly across from the fireplace and between two windows that look out over the front porch.  The cabin walls are rough hewn logs that had to be whitewashed to cover the burn marks.  The bright walls and open rafter ceiling make the space feel larger then it is.  All in all it isn’t much, but it’s his and after a lifetime of wandering its all he needs.   

Dean considers this last week of furious activity.  He’d actually been ahead on his winter preparations, but there has been something in the air these last few days that had him worried.  There wasn’t any tangible reason, but he had a feeling about the weather and a gut feeling is a gut feeling.  Dean never ignores his gut.  Now with heavy snow falling outside he’s glad he took precautions.  

He reaches for the paperback on his nightstand.  He’d never been much of a reader before, at least not for fun.  Now that he has time to truly relax, he relishes the opportunity to get lost in a narrative that doesn’t involve an investigation into some old grizzly death or an unexplained supernatural event.  

Dean avoids the serial killer or sensational books on principle, he’s seen enough death and destruction for one lifetime thank you very much, and anything self-help related.  He doesn’t need a new age guru to tell him he’s screwed up.  Once in a while he keeps a book or two, those he likes well enough to read again someday.  

He puts them on the bedroom side of the fireplace mantel.  He likes the idea that now he can hold onto something long enough for it to get dusty.  It makes the cabin feel more permanent and Dean needs that.  

Tonight’s paperback features a young rebellious beauty who is masquerading as a pirate to save her wastrel father’s shipping company from ruin and thus provide for her siblings.  It’s bound to be trashy.  Dean grins.  

A year ago he'd have scoffed at himself for forming such an uncharacteristic affinity for bodice ripping romances, but after many long months of self-recrimination and guilt he’s come to recognize the power of a simple harmless distraction.  Something to pull himself away from memories and nightmares, something as far removed from his previous life as possible.  He opens the book, finds his place, and starts in.   

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean awakes with a start.  He holds his breath and lays still for a moment.  In the soft glow of the firelight he can see no immediate threats.  Something has pulled him from sleep though and he eases out of bed.  His hearing tuned to any unusual noises.  

He quietly steps into his jeans and pulls on a t-shirt.  He stuffs his feet into his house shoes and checks the safety on his Colt.  He tucks the gun into his back waistband and palms the handle of the knife he keeps under his pillow.  

It’s hard to hear over the roar of the wind, but he focuses hard on tuning out the storm and waits.  The moment stretches on until Dean almost has himself convinced that he’s heard a phantom noise.  He’s about to climb back into bed when he hears a muffled thump on the front porch.  

Dean sighs.  This is just what he needs.  He hopes whoever or whatever it is it isn’t hostile.  He doesn’t want to deal with clean-up and disposal in this weather.

He creeps toward the front door, gun drawn and shoes silent on the broad plank floor.  He turns the knob an eases open the inner door.  A blast of cold air hits him and he quickly steps into the arctic entry.  He closes the inner door behind him and waits in the dark.  He shivers, the arctic entry isn’t as well sealed as the rest of the cabin and the wind easily finds its way in among the cracks and crannies.

Another thump, perhaps a half-hearted knock on the door, and then whatever is on his front porch rattles the door knob.  Dean can’t be sure what is out there, but it’s definitely trying to get in.  Dean lifts the corner of the heavy curtain that covers the glass top half of the door and peeks out.  The porch light is on, but the wind is blowing so much it’s hard to see anything other than snow.  

He catches a movement to the left of the door and hesitates.  There shouldn’t be any hikers up this high at this time of year; all the trails are closed for the season.  There shouldn’t be any random arrivals on Dean’s door step either, he’s been here nearly a year and has only had one other human in the cabin.  The radio technician who’d come to install his Park’s Service shortwave was his first and last visitor.  

Dean frowns.  He knows better than just about anyone how dangerous the world can be and just how many things are out there in the dark.  Dean takes a deep breath and lets it out slow.  It could be that his past has finally caught up to him, discovered his well hidden tracks and found him at last.  He contemplates that thought for a moment and decides it’s irrational.  

Anything supernatural wouldn’t be bothered by the cold or a closed door.  If whatever is on the porch is a bad guy, there isn’t much he can do about it anyway; sooner or later they always find a way in.  If they do make it inside they’ll find themselves trapped in any number of ways long enough for Dean to bail out anyway.  His safest move would be to back into the house and wait them out.    

Still, not everything that goes bump in the night is supernatural and he can’t leave a fellow human outside on his front porch to die.  Dean sighs and rubs the back of his neck.  He can’t wait much longer.  He’s already shivering hard and if the noises on his porch are human then whoever it is can’t have much time left. 

Decision made, Dean unlocks the deadbolt and yanks the door open.  He steps back, gun drawn and eyes searching to discover who or what is on his porch.  Even with the door open he can’t see much beyond the blinding snow and with the howl of the wind he can hear almost nothing.

Dean takes a step forward, but before he can investigate further, a large snow covered object appears in the doorway.  He sucks in a breath and brings his pistol to bear.  The man, at least Dean assumes the giant swaying mountain of snow is a man, reaches out for Dean and promptly collapses.  He catches the man instinctively.  

“Sonofabitch!”  Dean scowls and fumbles to stow the Colt while he eases the man onto the floor.  

He quickly grasps the man’s jacket and tugs him further into the arctic entry.  The guy weighs a ton and Dean has to shift his grip and lean nearly all his weight back on his heels to get the man to move.  He pulls and tugs none too gently until the man is mostly inside.  He steps over the prone figure and grabs the guy’s feet.  He shoves them up and out of the way so he can close the outer door. 

He flips the light on and surveys the scene.  Whoever this guy is he’s big, easily a few inches taller than Dean, and broad shouldered.  The guy’s wearing an enormous backpack and heavy winter clothing.  For the life of him Dean can’t figure why the guy is up this far at all and why if he has what looks like expensive gear and a sub-zero tent the guy isn’t safely tucked inside it waiting out the storm.

Dean shakes his head, the big guy isn’t going to be easy to handle.  He bends down and gets to work.  He quickly disconnects the guy’s snow shoes and tosses them away.  He rolls the guy onto his side and releases the straps to his oversized backpack.  It takes some seriously annoying effort to get the guy out from under the heavy thing, but Dean manages it as quickly as he can and then kicks the offending bag into the corner.  

He brushes off as much snow as possible before he opens the inner door and drags the unconscious man into the warmth of his cabin.  The guy isn’t shivering and that is a bad sign.  The man needs to be warmed up and fast.  Dean rolls him onto his back to remove the rest of the guy’s bulky clothing.  

“Hey buddy…Hey!”  Dean tries to get a response while he works.  There is no reaction.  The guy is literally out cold.  

The man’s parka and snow pants came off easily enough.  Underneath there is some good layering, but a quick peek at the man’s cold white chest and the tell tale rasp of shallow breathing tells Dean the guy’s core temperature is dangerously low.  Dean removes the guy’s wet gloves, pulls his impossibly long arms out of his sleeves and crosses them over his chest, tucking the guy’s frozen hands into his own armpits.  It might help enough for now.  

Dean checks the guy’s legs and discovers he’s soaking wet from the waist down.

“ _Shit!”_ That explains it.  

The wind and snow are as bad as Dean had ever seen up here, but not unmanageable with the kind of expensive gear the big guy is sporting.  Any kind of gear is useless though when it gets wet and even a guy this big would lose crucial body heat faster than he could replace it.  The guy would have died if he hadn’t made the cabin.   

He must have fallen or stepped into one of the dozen or so creeks that make their way down the mountainside.  Some are just a small trickle of water, but others are deep enough to soak a man and in this weather getting wet is the fastest was to life threatening hypothermia.  Already working fast, Dean curses and doubles his efforts.  The guy needs to be warm as soon as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean gets the big man stripped down to his thermal undershirt and wet boxer briefs.  The big man’s legs are pale and wooden.  He can see large white and hard patches of skin on the man’s thighs, it will be touch and go for a case of frostbite.  The guy’s giant feet are like bricks of ice and at the very least they’ll be swollen and painful for days to come.  It’ll be a wonder if the guy walks away without permanent damage.    

He stands up and snags a blanket off the back of the rocker inside the door.  He lays it out and wrestles the big man onto it.  Dean grabs the blanket corners and drags the still unconscious man across the main room to the bathroom.  

Dean pushes open the bathroom door and staggers into the room.  It would have been damn near impossible to get the big guy into the old bathroom and Dean takes a second to appreciate the fact that when he renovated he had expanded the space.  He also indulged himself with an impossibly large tub which is about to come in very handy.  Manhandling a giant frozen popsicle into the old shower stall would have been a daunting task to say the least.  

Dean starts warm water pouring into the big claw foot tub and wrestles the big man into a semi-seated position.  He strips the guy’s thermal undershirt off and checks the man’s head and ears.  They seem okay so he pulls the man’s knit cap back down to cover as much as it can.  He shuts the water off for now and tries to decide the best way to get the big guy into the tub without causing any further damage.

He takes a deep breath, straddles the man’s legs, and bends to wrap his arms around his big chest.  He clasps his hands behind the man’s back and lifts with his knees.  He heaves himself to his feet and almost goes over backwards when the limp giant falls forward into his arms.  The guy is huge and Dean has a moment of panic before he gets hold of himself and steadies them both.  

With the weight under control, Dean walks them back toward the edge of the tub.  He eases the man down onto the edge and slowly lowers him into the water.   The big guy ends up mostly in the tub with his tree limb legs hanging over the edge.  He looks like a drunken frat boy.  

Dean uses one arm to move the man around until his back is at the head of the tub and braces a hand on the man’s chest to keep him from sliding under the water.  He uses his free hand to move the man’s legs one at a time and places them gently in the tub.  All in all not so bad.  

Satisfied that all major body parts are fully embraced in warm water, Dean sighs in relief.  He doesn’t know how long it might take to warm the guy up, but at least his plan is working so far.  

Keeping a hand on the man’s shoulder Dean snags a hand towel from the cabinet under the sink and soaks it in the warm water.  He brings it up and spreads it out over the exposed parts of the man’s chest and neck.  He grabs a washcloth, soaks it, and presses it gently against the man’s cold cheeks and forehead.  

The guy has a solid week’s worth of beard, which probably saved him some serious frostbite.  Dean can see a strong jaw line and a presumably handsome face beneath.  He reaches out and gives the man a light tap.  No response.  He thinks about smacking the man a good one to get some sort of reaction, but decides against it.

When the water starts to go cold, Dean reaches out and pulls the drain.  He lets about half the water run out and seals it up again.  This time he turns the water on a little hotter and watches it fill up.  

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey man…you in there?”

“Mmmmpf…”

“That’s it…come open your eyes…”  Dean coaxes.

The big man blinks slowly and lowers his lids again.

“Hey…you’ve got to wake up…I need you to talk to me.”  Dean insists.  “Come on man.”

“T…t…tired…”

“I know.  It’s tough almost dying…”  Dean teases. “Come on look at me…need to see if you’re okay.”

The big man scrunches up his face and with visible effort opens his eyes and looks at Dean.

“There you go…how’re you doing?  Getting warm?”

“ _Hurts…_ ”  The big man groans.           

“Sorry, but it’s going to hurt for a while…least until you get warmed up...maybe a few days after.  It’ll get better though.  I promise.”

The big man nods and closes his eyes again.

Dean sighs.  At least the guy responded.  He’d started to wonder if the big guy was going to sleep through the whole show.

“We’re going to have to get you out of here in a minute.”  Dean pats the guy’s cheek again.

The big man’s hazel eyes blink open and stare.

“You can’t stay here all night.”  Dean grins.  “A few more minutes and then off to bed, okay?”

The man gives him a weak smile and nods.

“I’m going to refill with some hotter water if you think you can stand it?”

The big man starts to speak and gets lost in a violent shiver that has Dean reaching out to hold the larger man steady.  

“Whoa…that was a good one.”

The big man just stares at Dean and pants through a series of small shivers.

“It’s a good sign…the shivers.”  Dean reassures him.  “It means you’re warming up.  Bad news is it also means it’s going to start to really hurt now.”

The big man grimaces and looks resigned.

“How about we get you a little warmer and get you moving some.”

Dean quickly drains the tub to half again and turns the water back on hot.  He tests the temperature to make sure it won’t scald the guy.  He picks up one large foot and starts in on some circulation exercises.  

He carefully rotates each ankle and bends each knee several times.  He avoids holding on too tight and knows better then to chaff the skin.  He doesn’t need to cause more damage to underlying tissue.

The big guy sighs and leans back.  He slowly flexes his hands and arms under the water.  Dean gives him a nod of approval.  The big man continues to stare at Dean with big puppy eyes.

When the water cools again.  Dean pulls the drain and gets to his feet.  He pulls two towels from the cabinet and sets them on the toilet.

“Okay.  This is the plan.”  He tells the big man.  “We are going to swing you around and bring you up onto the edge of the tub.”

The big man nods and starts to move.  Dean helps pull him around and lifts the man’s feet over the edge.

“Wrap your arms around my neck and hold on.”  Dean instructs and the big guy does as he is told.   “Good now I’m going to lift you, but we’re just going for the edge of the tub not all the up okay?  On three...”

They manage it well enough.  Dean keeps a hand on the guy’s shoulder and grabs another towel.  He drapes it around the guy’s upper half and pats him dry.  

“Keep a hand on my shoulder so I can get you to your feet.”  He tells him.

Dean takes the towel and bends to pat dry the man’s huge feet and most of his long legs.  

“We’re going to stand up now so you can get those wet drawers off.”

The big man nods and wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders again.  When Dean pulls the man to his feet he hisses in pain.

“Feet hurt?”

“Yes.”  The big man says with a heavy sigh.

“Okay let’s make this quick then and get you horizontal.”

The big guy nods and uses one hand to get rid of his wet shorts.  Dean hands him a towel and looks up at the ceiling while the guy does his best to dry his parts.  He takes the towel back and wraps it around the guy’s waist.  

“Think you can walk a few feet?”

“I’ll...try.”  The big man shivers again and Dean holds his shoulders until it subsides.  

The big man gives him a nod and they shuffle out of the bathroom and manage to make it to the bed without incident.  The big man sinks into the soft mattress with a pleased sigh.  Dean grins. 

“See if you can stay upright for another minute.”

The big man nods and braces himself with his hands.

Dean moves quickly to his dresser and selects a pair of flannel pants and heavy socks.

“Here...”  He holds up the pants.  “Let’s get these on.”

The big man nods again.  Dean crouches down and works the socks on first, pulling them all the way up to the man’s knees.  He fits the pants on next and pulls them up as high as he dares.

“Okay let’s get them on.”

The big man reaches for Dean’s shoulders and together they stand him on his feet again.  

Dean looks at the ceiling for the second time tonight while the big man works the flannel pants into place.  When he’s finished they both sigh in relief.  Nothing worse then being naked and helpless.  

The big man sits back down and Dean helps him get settled into the pillows.  He pulls the covers up to the man’s chin and grins.

“Sorry I don’t have a t-shirt big enough for you.”

The big guy shrugs.

“I’d get one of yours, but I’m guessing everything in that giant backpack it probably wet.”

The man grimaces.

“Okay well let me get the fire built up and I think you need to drink something if you can.  Cold like this will dehydrate you big time.”

The big man licks his lips and frowns.

“Yep.”  Dean nods.  “It’s easy to forget to drink as much as you should.”

Dean moves into the kitchen and gathers a few of the emergency items he keeps for stranded hikers.  He comes back to the bed side and nudges the big guy’s shoulder.

“Here...”  Dean holds the boxed drink out.  “Just a few sips until we know your stomach can handle it.”

The big guy sucks a little up with the straw.  He grimaces and rolls his eyes.

“I know.”  Dean chuckles.  “Tastes like crap, but it has all those electrolytes and junk you need to recover.”

The big guy takes another drink and pushes it away.

“Okay, but if that stays down you have to drink the rest.”  Dean sets the drink aside and opens a power bar.  “Take a bite of this for me too.”

The big man takes a small bit off the corner and chews slowly.

“Good.”  Dean sits on the edge of the bed.  “You need to answer a few questions for me before you fall asleep, okay?”

The big guy frowns and reaches for the boxed drink.  He takes another sip and waits.

“Anybody looking for you?”

The big man frowns.

“Did you file a hiking plan with the Park’s Service?  Leave a car at a Trail Head?  Tell someone you’d be back today?  Anything like that?”

The big man shakes his head.

Dean nods.  “So there’s no one planning to head out in this weather to rescue your sorry ass?”

“No.”  The big man mutters.  “There’s no one.”

“Okay.”  Dean sighs.  “Just don’t want anyone else to get lost in that shit.”

The big man sighs.

“You got a name?”

“Sam.”

“Just Sam?”  

Sam shrugs.

Dean chuckles.  “Okay ‘Just Sam’...I’m just Dean.”

“Thank you...Dean...for taking me in...saving me.”  Sam gives him a sincere smile and those puppy eyes again.

“It’s cool Sam.”  Dean tells him truthfully.  “I’m just glad you made it to the cabin.”

Sam nods and sets the drink and energy bar aside.

“You going under?”

The big man sighs and closes his eyes.

Dean helps him get settled in and tucks the covers high around the man’s shoulders.  He turns to leave and Sam grabs his wrist.

“Don’t...”  Sam clears his throat.  “Don’t go.”

“Won’t go far.”  Dean reassures him.  “It’s not exactly a big place.”

“I meant...stay here with me.”  Sam yawns and pats the bed. 

Dean glances at the open side of the bed, his side of the bed and frowns.  The guy can’t mean that.

“You could leave the light on read...or sleep.”  Sam grins suddenly.  “I won’t molest you... _promise._ ”  The big man blinks and sighs.  “I just don’t want to be alone.”

Dean looks at the exhausted man for a long moment and finally nods.  “Okay, but I have to clean-up a bit first.  Five minutes.  Alright?”

Sam releases his wrist and closes his eyes.

Dean picks up the wet towels and takes them to the bathroom.  He mops up the wet floor and hangs the towels over the edge of the tub.  He’ll do the wash tomorrow.  

He emerges from the bathroom and tosses a quick look at the big man, at Sam.  He’s watching Dean with wide eyes.  Dean sighs and heads to the arctic entry.  He knocks the snow off of Sam’s snow shoes and hangs them on the wall to drip dry.  He snatches Sam’s boots and pack and hauls them into the main room.

Dean places Sam’s boots on the warm hearth and leans the pack against the stone.  He’ll deal with getting everything clean and dry tomorrow.  He shuts off all the lights and returns to the bedroom.    

He grabs another pair of flannel pants and throws a glance at Sam.  The big man’s eyes are closed so Dean shucks his shoes and jeans and slips them on.  He leaves his shirt on, no need to subject a stranger to the battered mess his chest is these days, and climbs into bed.

He’s exhausted by the lateness of the hour, the physical exertion of manhandling a giant, and the craziness that has suddenly invaded his life.  He looks over at Sam, _just Sam_ , and studies the man’s bearded face.  He wants to see more of it.  He wants to lick those lips open and... _Damn_.  

Never in his wildest fantasies did he imagine a gorgeous, sexy, man would literally fall into his arms at his front door and then insist that Dean join him in bed.  He sighs.  It’s been a long time since he wanted anyone and Dean can’t help but feel a small tingle of hope that maybe his unexpected house guest will find him as interesting in return.   

Dean shakes his head and settles back.  He reaches over and snaps off the light.  It’s a damn good thing that Sam made it past all of Dean’s wards.  He wouldn't have wanted to kill such an attractive package.  

 


	5. Chapter 5

Sam wakes warm and surprisingly rested.  He hasn’t really slept worth a shit since he received the call about his Dad’s death.  It’s been over a year and yet he still feels restless, lost somehow.  He snuggles deeper into the covers and smiles.  He isn’t alone this morning.  Maybe that makes all the difference. 

He cracks an eye and studies the man he shares a bed with.  The man who saved his life last night or yesterday.  With only the soft glow of firelight to see by Sam can’t tell what time it might be.  It feels like early morning, but it doesn’t really matter.  

The man, _Dean_ , is curled up on his side facing Sam.  In the low light Sam can see a day’s growth of beard, a strong jaw, unbelievably pouty lips, and what looks like a scar running across the man’s cheek and into his hairline.  Sam closes his eyes and tries to remember the color of the man’s eyes.  They’d been green, bright and amused.  He sighs.

It probably isn’t polite to stare at the man while he sleeps, but Sam can’t seem to help himself.  After all Dean had seen just about everything there was to see of Sam already so it seems only fair to see what he can see while he has the chance.  Sadly the man’s t-shirt covers his chest.  Sam’s hands itch to pull it off.

Dean stirs and shuffles his feet.  Sam stays still as the man wiggles around for a moment and finally rolls over and tucks his knees into his chest.  Sam waits until Dean’s breathing evens out again and rolls that direction.  He contemplates the broad expanse of the man’s back before he scoots closer.

The rational part of his brain can’t believe what he’s doing, but the warm, aching, lonely part decides it is worth the risk.  He can always claim sleep induced confusion.  Sam sighs and wraps an arm around Dean’s middle.

Dean immediately tenses.  Sam gives him a minute to protest and when none comes, he inches closer, presses his chest against Dean’s back.  He sighs and buries his nose in hair at the base of his neck.  He smells clean and inviting.  Sam takes a deep breath of Dean.

Dean shivers and moans in response, his body going lax and pliant.  Sam grins, it’s all the invitation he needs.  He spreads his hand wide on Dean’s belly and pulls him back.  

He nuzzles at the base of Dean’s neck and fits the smaller man tightly against him.  His erection is already hot and insistent.  He adjusted his hips until he can press himself firmly against Dean’s marvelously round ass.

Sam holds Dean close for a long moment, just savoring the feel of his body.  Dean sighs and shifts until Sam’s cock is settled neatly in the crack of his ass.  He arches his back and moans.  Sam groans at the contact, it’s been far too long since he’s been touched by anyone but himself and the suggestion in Dean’s movements has him gasping for breath.

He closes his eyes, breathes in Dean’s scent and focuses.  He mouths hot kisses along the accessible parts of Dean’s neck and shoulders while he slides his hands down to stroke the man’s erection.  Dean gasps and thrust his hips.  Sam chuckles and palmed Dean’s hard cock through the thin fabric of his flannel pants.  

Dean tosses his head and pants.  He reaches back and grasps Sam’s hip.  He pulls him tightly against his ass.

“Jesus... _Dean_.”  Sam chokes out the man’s name.  

He closes his eyes and thrust against Dean’s firm backside.  While his hips move, he slips his hand below the waist band of Dean’s pants and wraps it around his twitching cock.         

“ _Yes..._ Fuck!  Sam.... _Sammy._..”  Dean groans and puts a hand over the top of Sam’s.  “I...won’t last...it’s been...too long.”

Sam grins against Dean’s shoulder and continues to thrust slow and easy against him.  “Then don’t...”  He whispers.  “Let go for me.”

Sam should be shocked at himself.  He’s never been a smooth operator by any means. Something about this man has him strangely focused and demanding.    

Dean moans and throws his head back.  Sam strokes and pulls at his dick.  He grins and takes hard little nips of Dean’s neck.  

Dean moves his hand back to Sam’s hip again and grips him hard.  He pushes his ass back and then thrusts foreword into Sam’s grasp.  He utters wonderfully desperate noises that make Sam’s head spin.  It’s all he can do to concentrate on Dean’s pleasure and hold his own in check.

“Come on Dean.”  Sam coaches.  “Give it to me... _Baby_...come on.”  Sam squeezes Dean’s cock and strokes a thumb across the tip.  Sam works pre-come around the sensitive edge while Dean squirms and cycles his legs. 

“Sam...I...”  Dean moves his hand down to cup his balls while Sam pants against Dean’s neck and works him hard.  Seconds later Dean goes rigid and comes in hot splashes across his belly.  He lets out a long satisfied moan and collapses.  Sam laves at Dean’s neck.

Dean pants for a second before turning in Sam’s arms.  He smiles up at him and kisses him quickly.  He tucks his head under Sam’s chin.  

Dean shifts closer and runs his knuckles down the length of Sam’s straining cock.  Sam moans and thrust against the exploring hand.  Dean uses both hands to ease Sam’s waistband down and hook in under his aching balls.  

Sam wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders and groans encouragement.  He runs his hands over Dean’s back and nuzzles the top of his head.  Dean takes hold of Sam’s weeping erection and strokes him.

“Mmmm.... _please_.”  Sam breathes as he thrusts into Dean’s grip.  

Dean chuckles and moves his lips against Sam’s chest while he tugs on his balls.  Sam gasps.  It doesn’t take long before his stomach clenches and he thrusts one last time into Dean’s touch.  

“ _Dean_...”  He comes with a groan.  He holds Dean close and breathes through the aftershocks.  

“ _Wow._ ”  Dean sighs against Sam’s chest a few minutes later.  “You can wake me up like that... _anytime_.” 

“Ya?” Sam grins.  “I was afraid I might have taken... _advantage_ of you.”

“Gee Sam...”  Dean snorts.  “You promised you wouldn’t _molest_ me...and look what happened.”

Sam blushes.  

Dean looks up at him grins.  “Do I look like I have any objections?”

“No.”  Sam smiles.  “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“I’d say so.”  Dean sniffs and gives him a closed mouth kiss.  He tucks Sam’s penis back into his pants and smacks him lightly on the ass.  “Time to rise and shine Sammy!”  Dean pushes off and bounces out of bed.  He bends to stoke the fire and heads into the bathroom. 

Sam can’t help but laugh as he follows Dean’s movements.  He swings his legs slowly out of bed and stands tentatively on tingling feet.  He hears a toilet flush and Dean peeks around the corner. 

“Need a hand?”

Sam shakes his head.  His feet hurt, but it feels good to move them too.  Dean smiles at Sam and turns back to the bathroom.  Sam makes the few feet easily enough and takes a piss while Dean fills the tub and grabs a couple of towels.  

Sam is surprised and pleased to feel so relaxed and comfortable.  There isn’t any unnecessary post sex banter or awkward physical jostling.  Just companionship.  He likes it.  

He looks at Dean and smiles.  Dean cocks an eyebrow and slips out of his pants and shirt.  Sam watches with an appreciative grin as he steps into the water.  

Sam shucks his own pants and climbs cautiously into the tub.  The water is hot and it burns his feet and legs in a painfully good way.  He sighs and sits opposite Dean.  

He settles his feet on each side of Dean’s narrow hips and leans back.  Dean tucks his feet under Sam’s thighs and scrunches down into the water. 

“Good thing this tub is enormous.”  Sam says after a bit. 

Dean shrugs.  “Didn’t ever expect to share it, but ya...”  He waggles his eyebrows at Sam.  “It’s big enough for most of you.”

Sam laughs and pokes Dean’s chest with his big toe.  “What’s the tattoo?”

Dean leans down and bites Sam’s toe hard.  

“Ow!  Damn.”  Sam yanks his foot back and glares.  “Sorry I asked.”

Dean laughs.  “It’s for protection.”   

“Against what?”

“Evil.”  Dean tells him with a straight face.

Sam blinks.  “Superstitious much?”

“You could say that.”  Dean reaches out and snags some body wash and a scrubby from the shelf.  He soaps it up and tosses it to Sam.  

Sam scrubs himself in silence.  He won’t fault anyone for having superstitions, he’s plenty of those himself.  When he’s finished he tosses the scrubby back to Dean.  

Dean starts to scrub his own chest.  “So you going to ask me?”    

“About what?”  Sam frowns. 

Dean drops his eyes to his chest and then looks at Sam.

“About the scars?”  Sam shrugs.  

He’d seen them.  Dean’s chest is a patch work of white and pink scar tissue.  Hard not to notice really.  

There are a couple of puckered puncture wounds, a few razor thin scars, and several ragged edged scars that look like claw marks.  Most are old and faded to white, but several are more recent including the one of his face.  Sam judges them to be no more then a few years old.  

“Figured you’d tell me if you wanted to.”  He says.

Dean gives him a long look and sighs.  “Is it okay if I don’t?  For now.”

“Sure.”  Sam shrugs again.  “It’s your business.”

Dean relaxes and nods.  “Thanks.”

“No problem.”  Sam closes his eyes.

“How are you feet?”  Dean lifts Sam’s foot and kisses his abused toe.  He rubs gently and does the same to his other foot.  

“They hurt a little...”  Sam sighs.  “Pins and needles you know?”

Dean nods.  “They might be like that for a day or two.”

“Ya, I figured.”  Sam opens his eyes.  “You going to ask me?”

Dean feigns innocence.  “About what?”

“Why I’m up here...tramping around in a snow storm.”

“Figured you’d tell me if you wanted to.”  Dean mimics and gives him a smirk.

Sam grins back.  Dean is adorable when he was being a smart ass and Sam could get used to that smirk.   

He thinks about keeping his obsession to himself.  Sam has a feeling that Dean won’t press him for info, but he suddenly wants to talk.    

“I’m looking for someone.”  Sam smiles.  It feels good to tell someone.  No.  It feels good to tell _Dean._    

Dean’s eyes go wide and he stills.

“Don’t worry...”  Sam chuckles.  “I’m not here to serve court papers or exact vengeance or anything.”

Dean frowns and says nothing.

Sam grimaces.  “That was supposed to be funny.”

Dean sighs and rolls his eyes.  “You hungry?”

“Ya.”  Sam answers confused by the abrupt change in topic. 

“Okay...”  Dean nods.  “Let’s get dressed.  I’ve got some chores to do in the barn while your get the laundry going and make us some coffee.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at the orders and waits.

“When I get back...I’ll get breakfast started and you can tell me what you’re up to.”  Dean gives him a steady look.  “If you still want to.  Deal?”

“Deal.” 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Dean hands Sam his last pair of clean flannel pants, another pair of socks, and the baggiest flannel shirt he owns.  They get dressed in silence.  He shows Sam where the stackable washer and dryer are hiding and points out the coffee maker.  He pre-heats the oven, bundles up, and heads for the barn.

He is pleased to find everyone cozy and well.  He milks the goats and gathers up today’s eggs.  Feeds everybody, mucks out the stalls, checks the heat lamps, and freshens up their water.  He closes the barn doors tightly against the wind and heads back to the cabin.  

The coffee smells great and Dean smiles.  “Thanks.”  He accepts a cup from Sam.  “You get the laundry figured out?”

“Ya.  No problem.”

“Good.”  Dean moves into the kitchen.  He sets the goat’s milk in the fridge and hands the eggs to Sam.   “Give these a wash will ya?”  

While Sam gets to work, Dean sets out everything he needs for biscuits, gravy, and scrambled eggs.  He tries to focus on the simple task of making breakfast and ignore the fact that he’s let a stranger into his home and his bed.  This is no time to freakout.

Dean sighs.  He has to keep reminding himself that he’s covered his tracks well.  In fact there was only one person who ever knew about Dean’s escape plan and he wouldn’t, couldn’t tell a soul.  Dean is safe here, he knows that.  He has no reason to panic.

He sneaks a glance at the tall man at his sink and can’t help but smile.  He’s gorgeous and Dean wants to lay him across his bed and explore that well built frame until they were both desperate for release.  He shivers.  Maybe it’s time to let something like this happen.  Maybe the Fates are smiling on Dean for a change.  

Dean watches Sam for a minute or two.  The man is busy scrubbing eggs with a focused determination that makes Dean wonder if Sam is having a couple of second thoughts of his own.  Dean shakes his head and straightens.  He hasn’t accepted anything for himself in so long.  He wants this and he wants Sam to want this too.  No matter how it came about.  

“They don’t have to be perfect...just clean enough to crack.”  Dean teases.

“I know.”  Sam huffs.  “Just...”  He puts the last egg aside and looks at Dean.  “You’re not regretting earlier are you?”

“What?”  Dean reddens.  “No...no Sam.”  He kneads the biscuit dough.  “I should though...right?  I mean we’re basically _strangers_.”  He shrugs.  “I just don’t...regret it.”  He waves a hand between them. “I _want_ this...whatever it might be.”  He means it too.  Dean is a little shocked at himself.  He looks at Sam and smiles.

The big man isn’t a Demon or any other supernatural thing Dean has ever run into and he sure as Hell isn’t a Hunter.  He is just some guy.  Just some guy who got himself lost in the snow for what is sure to be a crazy reason.  Dean nods to himself.  It’ll be fine.  

“Good.”  Sam grins and his dimples pop out despite the beard.  “I...like it too.” 

Sam turns and starts to set the table without direction.  As he busies himself finding things, Dean finishes making breakfast.  When everything is ready they take seats opposite each other and dig in without a word.  Sam eats like a horse and Dean is pleased to see someone enjoy his cooking so much.  He gets up and pours them fresh coffee.  

“So you ready to chat?”  He asks. 

“Ya.”  Sam blushes.  “Sorry...I haven’t eaten this good in a long time.  Breakfast was great.  Thanks.”

“Glad you liked it.”  Dean shrugs.  “Usually I only have to please myself.”  He blushes.  “It’s nice to have someone to cook for.”  He ducks his head.

“Well...no complaints here.”  Sam grins and finishes up.  

“So.”  Dean sits back and sips his coffee.

“Okay.”  Sam takes a deep breath.  “I’m looking for a guy who knew my Dad.”  He shrugs.  “I guess he might have been more like a friend then a partner, but I don’t know that much about him.”  Sam shakes his head.  “I never met the man, but my Dad talked about him all the time...really admired the guy you know?” 

“He got a name?”  Dean asks.

“No.”  He smiles.  “Dad just referred to him as his ‘Partner’...‘my partner _this_ ’...‘my partner _that’_.  Now that Dad’s gone...”  Sadness washes over him and he closes his eyes for a moment.  “It just seemed really important to meet the guy that he spent so much time with.”    

“Huh.”  Dean is at a loss.  Of all the possibilities he hadn’t thought of that one.  Just a random guy looking for a connection to his dead father.  “So you’re looking for a buddy of your Dad’s or a partner or whatever.  A guy you’ve never met and who you think is up _here_ somewhere?”

“Ya.”  Sam flushes, but holds his gaze.

“That’s a little weird right?”

“Ya.”  

They both chuckle and drink more coffee.  

“It is weird.”  Sam admits.  He rubs his face and scratches at his beard.  “My Dad was kinda the original mystery man you know?  He was never around, always gone off somewhere.”  Sam looks past Dean and out the kitchen window.  

“His official job title was ‘Security Consultant’, but we never really talked about what he did while he was away.”  Sam looks at Dean and shrugs.  “When I got old enough to realize that he didn’t tell me things because he didn’t want to put me in danger or lie to me…I quit asking.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that.  He can’t imagine what that would have been like.  He’d been incredibly close to his Mom, was almost never separated from her growing up, and they had shared everything.  

Even with the constant travel, crap motel rooms, and the endless parade of scary supernatural shit, he wouldn’t have changed it for the world.  He was grateful for everyday he had with her.        

“What about your Mom?”  Dean asks.

“She died when I was a baby.  That’s all I know.  Dad never spoke about her.”  Sam closes his eyes and sighs.  “The only thing he ever told me was that...she was the ‘love of his life’ and that she loved _me_ very much.  I don’t even know what she looked like.”  He opens his eyes and shakes his head.  “Just another part of his life my Dad couldn’t…or wouldn’t share.”

“Well... _Shit.”_

“Ya.”  Sam snorts.  “What about your folks?”

“Mom died of cancer when I was 16.”  Dean closes his eyes.  

His Mom had been part of everything in his life until the moment she wasn’t anymore.  He feels her influence still, after all these years.  He misses her, terribly.  The fact that she’d actually died of cancer and not at the hands of some evil thing was the only consolation.  It made her loss more bearable for him.  At least she’d died as peacefully as any Hunter could hope for.  

“Whoa…”  Sam frowns.  “Sorry man.  Your dad?”

“I never knew my Dad.”  Dean confesses.  “He died before I was born.  Before Mom even knew she was pregnant.”

Sam shakes his head in sympathy.  “That sucks.”

“Ya...but my Mom told me everything about him...so it kind of feels like I knew him a little.”  He grins.  “She talked about him all the time.  The kind of music he liked, his favorite foods, the way he did his hair…”  Dean ducks his head, surprised at himself for opening up like that.  It is just so easy with Sam.  

“She used to tell me how he was the ‘strong silent type most’ of the time but...after a few beers he would get all ‘lovely-dovey’.”  Dean smiles and blushes.  “She said she missed _that_ most of all.”    He’d never told anyone any of those things before.  

Sam gives him a sad, but encouraging smile.  

“She never got over him.”  He says sadly.  “But...she told me something new about him all the time.”  Dean looks at Sam and sees only patient interest.  “I think she wanted someone else to remember him the way she did you know?  He didn’t have anyone else and there wasn’t anyone to remember but her and me I guess.”  

“That’s really cool.”  Sam smiles.  “I wish I knew as much about _my_ Dad.  I know that probably sounds stupid because he was there for me, it’s just that he’s always been…out of reach somehow.”

Dean smiles and nods.  “So where were you when your Dad was out doing…security consulting or whatever?”

“Boarding school.”  Sam looks around the room and sighs.  “I stayed with various people off and on when I was really young.  No one I really knew or _cared_ about.”  Sam smiles ruefully.  “Then when I was about ten I applied to a small Prep school and got a scholarship to attend in residence.  After that I saw Dad whenever he was... _around_.”  

Dean nods.  It had to have been tough growing up without your Mom or Dad around all the time.  Lonely too.    

“I think he really tried to be there for all the important things, but sometimes he just couldn’t make it…for whatever reason.”  He shrugs and sits back.  “He never failed to call though...and well...”  Sam throws his hands up and tries not to sound bitter.  “I never knew anything different so it was just my life.  You know?”

Dean nods.  He could say the same about his life too.  He never knew anything different and really hadn’t wanted anything different.  

Even after Mom died he stayed in the fight, until he lost almost everything and then he’d just walked away.  He hoped that he’d done enough good while he could and that wherever his Mom was, she wasn’t disappointed in him.     

Sam pauses lost in his own thoughts.  Dean waits patiently for him to continue.  

“I used to imagine my Dad was a super spy or CIA or something.”  Sam laughs lightly.  “He was always teaching me self-defense and taking me to the gun range and all that stuff.  Sometimes he would come to see me and I could tell he’d been injured somehow.”  Sam frowns and looks at Dean.  “I finally stopped asking questions about that too.”    

Dean gets up and pours more coffee.  He pauses at Sam’s end of the table, leans down and kisses him lightly.  Sam’s eyes soften and Dean is glad he did it.  He moves back to his seat and waits for Sam to finish.  

“I think sometimes that I’m lucky I knew him at all you know?”  Sam finally says.  “Like he could have just left me behind…adopted me out.”  Sam shakes his head.  “It would have probably been easier on him and I would have been fine, right?”  Sam snorts.  “Then I remember when he was around… _man._..it was _perfect_.”  

Dean grins and Sam grins back.  

“He was bigger than life…like every boy’s dream Dad.”  Sam laughs.  “A badass who drove a cool car.  All the guys I went to school with were totally in awe when he showed up.”  Sam grins at Dean.  “Me too I guess.  I never really got over being amazed by my Dad.”  Sam shakes his head.  “I had his complete attention whenever he was around and I miss that… _miss him_.”

“What happened?”  Dean asks quietly.  

“He died.”  Sam swallows hard.

“ _Damn_.”  Dean sighs heavily and leans back.  “How?”

“The coroner said a Heart Attack.”  Sam snorts.  “If you can believe that.  I mean with all the risks my Dad must have taken...the dangers he must have faced in his line of work.”  He shakes his head.  “He always seemed healthy as a horse.”  

“ _Shit._ ”  

 


	7. Chapter 7

“I don’t know much more.”  Sam grimaces.  “He was out on a job.  I got the call from the local Police and...”  He shrugs.  “That was that.” 

He can’t believe he was spilling his guts to a guy he’d just met.  He looks over at Dean and sees only sympathy and acceptance.  He doesn’t even know Dean’s last name and strangely enough doesn’t care.  

Sam wants to tell Dean everything even though he isn’t sure why.  He sits back again and tries to relax.  He is grateful for Dean’s quiet interest.  

“I can’t remember the last time I spoke to him.”  He confesses and swallows hard.  “I can’t help but think that I should have known that he was in trouble somehow.  I mean overworked or whatever.  I should have noticed it...made him take a break.”  

“Nothing you could have done.”  Dean shakes his head.  “Heart Attacks are pretty common for a guy his age, right?  When it comes down to it…bad shit happens and it’s just out of your control.”  

Sam nods.  He knows that, but it doesn’t stop him from wondering if he should have, could have done something.  Saved his Dad somehow.    

“Now he’s just gone.”  Sam rubs his face again.  “I have a hard time remembering it you know?  I keep feeling like he’ll call me any day and ask what’s up and I... _miss_ him so much.”  He puts his head in his hands and tries to breath. 

“I get that.”  Dean says.  “I fell like that about my Mom too.  Like I’ll turn around someday and she’ll just be there.  _Crazy_ right?”

Sam nods and gives him a weak smile. 

“So all this is about finding your Dad’s partner?”  Dean prompts.

“Ya.”  Sam nods.  “I want a chance to get to know my Dad better, if that’s possible.”  He looks at Dean.  “Those things you talked about knowing about your Dad…that’s great man.  I mean who doesn’t know the simplest things about the people they love?  _Me._   I guess.”  Sam scowls.  

“When he was with me it was all about what I wanted to do, to eat, to talk about.  I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”  Sam balls his hands into fists.  “I mean...he told me things about his partner, about some of the crazier jobs they pulled, the weird people they worked for, but nothing personal.  I can’t even tell you what my Dad’s favorite food was or his opinion on... _anything_.  How pathetic is that?”

Dean keeps his mouth shut and Sam is grateful that the usual platitudes don’t come.   

“I thought maybe if I could speak to this guy he would...maybe take the time to share memories of my Dad.”  Sam tells Dean.  “He never mentioned anyone else... _ever_.”  Sam scowls.  “Clearly his ‘partner’ was a big part of my Dad’s... _secret life_.”  He shoots Dean a look.  “Like I said ‘mystery man’.” 

“What makes you think this partner will want to talk to you?  I mean maybe this guy’s a secret for a reason you know?”  Dean asks.  “Maybe he’s dangerous or crazy or something.”

“Could be, but I have to know.”  Sam insists.  “That’s why I’m here.  That’s why I couldn’t wait...it's like I can’t let it go.”  

Sam stands up and paces from the table to the kitchen and back.  

“I know it sounds foolish and naive, but I just need to meet him.”  He says.  “The idea that there is someone out there that knew my Dad better than I did…that maybe _loved_ him like I did…it just eats me up.”

Sam holds Dean’s eyes and knows without a doubt that the other man understands.  

“I need to look this guy in the eye and try an understand my Dad.  Maybe this guy can help.  Maybe...”  Sam shrugs.  “Maybe we can even be _friends_.”

“I get it.”  Dean stands up and wraps his arms around him.  Sam leans into his embrace and buries his face in Dean’s neck.  It is so good to touch and be touched.  Dean fits so perfectly against him.  Sam sighs and relaxes.  

 


	8. Chapter 8

Dean doesn’t know what else he can do to help, but whatever Sam needs he’ll give it.  The big man feels so perfect in his arms.  Dean doesn’t even mind that for the first time in his life he is the shortest person in the relationship.  He smiles against Sam’s shoulder and just holds on.  

How this thing between them went from a life or death rescue to the easy comfort he feels now is hard to grasp, but Dean has never been one to question the Fates.  Maybe this thing won’t go anywhere at all.  Maybe Sam will walk out of Dean’s life just as quickly as he stumbled into it.  That’s okay.    

Meanwhile, Dean’ll take what he can get for as long as Sam is willing.  Companionship, warmth, affection...things he’s never really expected to find with another person.  Dean wants it all.

He raises his head to speak, but Sam claims his lips instead.  Sam’s mouth is hot and demanding and Dean moans in pleasure.  He leans in and runs his hands up over Sam’s shoulders and into his hair.  He tugs and Sam pulls his mouth away with a gasp.  Dean nuzzles his beard and nibbles his neck.

“ _God_...Dean.”  Sam breathes.  “Want you...so much.”  He reaches down, places those wonderfully large hands on Dean’s ass, and pulls him in.  

They both hiss in a breath as Sam grabs Dean’s hips and rubs their cocks together.  It’s almost too much.  Dean pulls away and makes quick work of Sam’s shirt.  

He spreads his hands over the broad expanse of Sam’s muscled chest and bends to take a hard nipple in his mouth.  He sucks and tugs it with his teeth while he lightly pinches the other one.  Sam groans and tosses his head, while he continues to thrust their hips together.

Dean finishes worshipping Sam’s pecks and goes back to Sam’s mouth.  They kiss and stroke each other’s tongues for long sweet moments.  Sam moves his hands up to cup Dean’s face. 

“Take me to bed?”  Sam’s voice is low and rough.

Dean blinks and tries to focus on Sam’s shining eyes.  His heart races, chest heaves, and his hands itch to run along every angle and curve of his lover’s sculpted frame.  Bed?  Definitely. 

“Ya.”  He licks his lips and pants.  “Oh, ya.”  

Sam chuckles and turns taking Dean’s hand.  They take a the few short steps to the bedroom and Sam drops Dean’s hand to move to the fireplace.  He watches as Sam places a few logs on the fire before turning and peeling off his borrowed clothes.  Dean methodically removes his own, his eyes on Sam’s.

“You are so _gorgeous_.”  Sam tells him.  “You know that?”  

Dean blushes and runs a hand over his chest.  It’s been a long time since anyone has really looked at him naked in the light.  He knows the scars aren’t pretty.

“Not so bad yourself.”  Dean smirks.  He reaches out to run a hand down Sam’s chest and brushes over the tip of his weeping cock.  “ _Edible_...I’d say.”  He drops to his knees and takes Sam into his mouth.  

“Goddamn!”  Sam jerks and puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder to steady himself.  “ _Dean_...”  He moves the other one up to cradle the back of Dean’s head.  

Dean eases into a slow, sensual rhythm.  He hasn’t done this for a man in almost longer then he can remember.  He’d forgotten how powerful it feels to drag tiny noises from your lover’s parted lips.  Sam groans and throws his head back.  

Dean pulls back and strokes Sam’s cock while he wets the fingers of his free hand.  He pulls them free of his mouth and looks up.  Sam opens his eyes, his pupils are totally blown, and he nods his permission.  He caresses the back of Dean’s head and shifts his feet to give him access.

Dean lifts Sam’s heavy sack and slips a finger back to slide gently between Sam’s cheeks.  He takes Sam’s cock back into his mouth and pushes a finger into Sam’s tight center.  

Sam shivers and gasps at the first intrusion.  Dean moves slowly, his touch gentle, his eyes on Sam’s face watching for discomfort or rejection.  He wants this to be right for them both. 

Sam spreads his legs further and bends his knees.  Dean slips his finger all the way in and brushes softly against the hard bundle of nerves.  He strokes Sam’s prostate and curls his finger to apply pressure in just the right spot. 

“Oh _God_...”  Sam moans.  “I want you inside me...Baby... _please._ ”

Stroking firmly, but gently he teases just enough to get the big man’s legs to shake before he slips his finger out.  He pulls his mouth of Sam’s cock with a wet pop.  He looks up at his lover and smiles. 

Sam growls, scoops Dean up off the floor and tosses him onto the bed.  Dean lets out a surprised cry and lands on the mattress in a graceless sprawl.  He shoots a glare at Sam for the manhandling and Sam just grins in response.  Dean flushes.  He might like being thrown around after all.

“Please tell me you have something.”  Sam’s look is hot and needy.

“Drawer.”  Dean nods toward the night stand.  

Sam yanks open the drawer and grabs lube and a condom.  

“Prepared huh?”  Sam raises and eyebrow.

“What can I say...”  Dean snorts.  “I’m a good Boy Scout.”

“Well...good for both of us.”  Sam leans down and runs his tongue from the base of Dean’s hard length to the tip.  He swirls his tongue around the crown and sucks at the pre-come.

“Holy Shit!”  Dean bucks his hips.  “Sammy...careful or this will all end too soon.”  

Sam chuckles and licks his way up Dean’s chest to capture his mouth.

Dean tugs on Sam’s hips and coaxes him onto the bed.  He scoots them around until Sam is straddling his thighs.  He wraps an arm around Sam’s neck and kisses him while he fumbles for the lube.  He gets it open one handed and slicks his fingers.  

He circles Sam’s center with slippery fingers and plunges one inside.  Sam gasps and rocks back onto Dean’s hand.  Dean concentrates on opening Sam up while Sam concentrates on distracting Dean with wet demanding kisses and firm strokes of his cock.

Sam moans and pushes up.  He reaches for the condom.  Dean squirms as Sam rolled it down and thoroughly lubes it with those huge warm hands.  Sam positions himself with Dean’s dick in his hand and eases himself down.  Dean holds Sam’s hips and watches his face as he wraps Dean’s cock in impossible heat.  

Dean closes his eyes and groans.  With every partner he’s ever been with this moment has always been tempered by the need to get in and get out quick.  One-night stands, fast and easy.  No strings attached because he couldn't stay.  Both players satisfied and done.  This though, this is something else.  Sam is something else.  Dean’s sure its never been like this before. 

He opens his eyes and stares at Sam in wonder.  He’s never felt anything like this.  The heat, the trembling need, the want, and the slow patient demand.  It isn’t just sex.  It’s Sam.  

He focuses on the play of emotions that cross Sam’s face while he seats himself fully.  Dean caresses Sam’s hips and sides.  He wants Sam to set the pace, wants this to be something new.

“You're stunning Sam.”  Dean tells him.  Surprised at himself again, but truthful.  _“Breathtaking...”_

Sam blushes and falls forward.  His hands on Dean’s chest he takes a couple of deep breaths and smiles.  Dean tugs him down for a kiss and moves his hips just enough for a slow stroke.

“ _Dean..._ ”  Sam holds his eyes.  “Like... _that_.”

Dean nods and thrust his hips again.  Sam meets him this time and Dean holds his ass while they discover the joys of teasingly short thrusts.  When they are both whimpering with want Sam pushes back and starts to ride him with a purpose.  

“ _Fuck_...Sam...keep that up.”  Dean growls and lifts his knees to support the larger man. 

Sam grins and increases his pace.  They quickly find a rhythm that works.  Dean reaches for the lube, coats his hand, and starts to fist Sam’s cock.  

Sam throws his head back, cries out and comes. “Dean!”    

Dean grins and strokes him through it.  The big man pants and collapses onto Dean’s chest.  He wraps Sam in his arms and rolls them over.  He pushes up onto his knees.

“Sammy...”  He looks down at Sam who gives him drowsy grin and thrust into Sam’s tight center once, twice, and comes with a satisfied grunt.  

Sam reaches up and pulls him down into his embrace.  Dean chuckles and snuggles in despite the sticky mess.  He kisses Sam slow and sweet.

“Whew...”  Dean presses his face into Sam’s sweaty neck.  “Wore me out.”

“Good.”  Sam strokes his back and sighs.  “Me too.”

Dean shifts and slides out.  He ties a knot in the condom and drops it onto the floor along with lube and wrapper.  He snags his T-shirt off the floor with his toes and wipes them both down.  Unbelievably Sam looks even sexier now, sweaty, panting, and fucked out.   

“Nap time?”  Dean chuckles.  

“Mmmm hmmm.”  Sam nods and yawns.  

Dean snags the blankets and covers them as best he can.  He settles into Sam’s side.  Sam tightens his arms around him and they promptly fall asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam’s stirs and blinks his eyes open.  He is still on his back.  Dean has his arm across Sam’s chest and his leg draped over Sam’s thighs.  Sam smiles.  

Waking up with someone clinging to him like a Limpet is a new experience for him.  He finds he likes it a lot.  He holds Dean for a long while, content to enjoy the other man’s warmth and soft breaths against his chest.

Soon enough Sam’s stomach starts to growl and all that coffee he had this morning has him needing to pee.  He sighs, reluctant to disturb his lover.  He rubs Dean’s back and nuzzles the top of his head until he stirs.

“Mmmm...got to pee?”  Dean asks, his voice rough and sleepy.

“Ya.”  His stomach growls loud and insistent.  He chuckles.  “Hungry too.” 

“Jesus.”  Dean grouses.  “You’re going to eat me out of house and home.”  

“I’m a growing boy.”  He huffs.

Dean snakes a hand down and cups Sam’s sex.  “I’ll say.”  He teases.

Sam swats his hand and shimmies out from under Dean.  He shuffles into the bathroom and takes a leak.  He washes his hands and rinses his mouth.  He looks at himself in the mirror and scratches at his beard.  He needs a shave.  

Dean is up and working at the kitchen counter when Sam emerges from the bathroom.  He takes a second to admire the view.  Dean is an incredibly sexy man.  All hard, lean muscle, with narrow hips, and slightly bowed legs that make Sam itch to wrap them around his waist.

He pads across the room and lays his hands on Dean’s shoulders.  Dean sighs and leans back.  Sam kisses him on the side of his neck and wraps his arms around his middle.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a Turkey sandwich for the bottomless pit.”  He gestures to a row of condiments on the counter.  “Mustard?  Mayo?”

“Mayo...and Mustard if its spicy.”  Sam runs his hands over Dean’s chest and back to his shoulders.

He takes a step back so Dean can move freely, but he can’t let him go just yet.  Instead he concentrates on  learning the contours of Dean’s back, tracing the scars of old wounds, and wondering about what or who put them there.  

He runs his fingers over each scar starting with the oldest most faded ones he can find.  There are dozens of past injuries and Sam examines them all.  When he is through with those he runs his fingers along the newest lines of bright pink scar tissue.  There are four parallel scars that run from just above Dean’s waist line, across his back, and over the peak of his shoulder.  When Dean turns his face the scar on his cheek lines up perfectly.  

Dean doesn’t stop working or acknowledge Sam’s explorations.  Sam grins to himself and bends to run his tongue from the bottom to the top of each one.  By the time he’s finished Dean is braced against the counter, his body trembling, and his breathing ragged.  Sam chuckles and pulls his lover back against his chest.  

“ _Shit_...Sam.”  Dean gasps.  “How do you do this to me?”

“It’s new to me too.”  Sam smiles against Dean’s neck.  “Can’t seem to get enough of you.”  He admits.  

Sam is contemplating his next move when his stomach takes charge and lets out another loud and demanding growl.  

Dean laughs and elbows him in the ribs.  “Get off me...your stomach demands attention.”  

He pulls reluctantly away and steps back.  Dean turns and hands him a plate of sandwiches.  Sam grins and takes a seat at the table.  They’re both still gloriously naked and Sam is pleased to see Dean dick as hard as his own.

“Don’t look so smug.”  Dean sets his plate down and scowls at Sam.  “I told you its been a long time for me.  This...”  He waves a hand at his crotch.  “Is just making up for lost time.”

“ _Bullshit_.”  Sam beams and Dean’s startled frown.  “This thing between us is rare and unusual and _you...”_ He points a finger at Dean.  “Know it too.”

Dean grimaces and shrugs and concedes with a curt nod.  He turns and pulls a couple of long necks out of the fridge and snags a bag of chips from the cupboard above it.  Dean pops the tops using his heavy silver ring and plunks one down in front of Sam.  He takes a seat and opens the bag of chips.         

Sam grins and takes a bite out of his sandwich.  Dean finishes his meal, only one sandwich, and leans back to much on chips, sip his beer, and watch Sam.  

“So...”  He says after a few minutes of easy silence.  “What were we talking about before we got... _distracted_ and slept half the day away.”

Sam shrugs and starts in on his second sandwich.  He is suddenly reluctant to talk about finding his Dad’s partner.  He has a sinking feeling that if he finds the man it will bring an end to what he and Dean have discovered together.  He doesn’t like that idea at all.  

For the first time since he received that phone call, he wants something other then to find his Dad’s partner.  As much as he wants to meet the mystery man, he wants Dean more.  Sam glances at Dean and sighs.  Dean isn’t going to let it go.

“I was telling you about finding my Dad’s partner.”  

“Right...”  Dean nods.  “And I was wondering why you thought your Dad’s ex-partner would be up here.”  

Sam finishes his sandwich, takes a long pull form his beer, and sits back.  “It’s hard to explain.”  He frowns.  He doesn’t know if it will make sense to someone else.  

“I’m game.”  Dean gives him an encouraging smile. 

“Okay, but first.”  Sam swallows another sip of beer.  “Is there anyone else up here besides you?”

“What?  I’m not good enough?”  Dean’s eyes sparkle.

“Oh...you’re good enough.”  Sam wags his eyebrows.  “Its just that...you’re too _young_.  I mean my Dad was in his fifties and he talked about this partner for years...so the guy has to be closer to his age right?”

Dean shrugs.  “Okay.”

“Are there any guys up here that fit the description?”

“What description?”  Dean teases.  “Fifty-ish and mysterious?”

Sam flushes.  “I guess so...”

“Okay...”  Dean chuckles.  “There are four cabins up this far.”  He holds up four fingers and ticks them off one by one.  “Mine, Old Mic’s, Vince Shaw’s and some guy named Smith.”  He grabs another hand full of chips.  

“I bought mine a while ago, but I’ve only been up here full time about a year and a half.  Old Mic has been up here for like fifty years.  Shaw is on the other side of the mountain by the Ski Resort.  I think he’s got family and Grandkids that come up to see him once and a while.”

“What about Smith?”

“He might be your man.”  Dean looks thoughtful.  “He’s old enough and he moved up here about the same time I did.”

Sam grins.  That was more information then he could have hoped for.  No one in town had had much to say about the mountain or the cabins up here.  Small town and closed mouths.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”  Dean shrugs.  “You going to head over there and ask him?”

“I don’t know.”  He really doesn’t.

“Well...its a hike from here to there.”  Dean turns to look out the window.  “Especially in this weather.” 

Sam can see the snow still blowing, though not as bad as it had been yesterday.  He shakes his head.  He can’t believe it’s only been a day since he’d met Dean.  Since he’d almost killed himself in the snow.  

“You could make it in a half day easy...if you were motivated.”

Sam frowns.   

“But...”  Dean leans forward.  “There’s no reason to rush right?”  He fidgets with his empty beer bottle and sighs.  “I mean...you could stay here...”  Dean raises his eyes to Sam.  “As long as you want.”

Sam leans forward and reaches for Dean’s hand.  “Thank you.”  He smiles.  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do right now.”

Dean looks relieved.  He clears his throat and stands up to clear the table.  Sam gets up to help him.  They finish up in the kitchen and Dean goes into the bedroom to slip on some jeans.  

“Going somewhere?”  Sam stretches his arms above his head and taps his hands on a low beam.  He smiles when Dean’s eyes darkened in response.

Dean swallows hard. He steps up to Sam and run his hands over Sam’s chest.  Sam shivers and arches back.  He is never going to get enough of this.  

Dean runs his hands around Sam’s waist and strokes his ass.  Sam moans and looks down at Dean.  There is that smirk again.  

“We need more wood.”  Dean notes.

“ _What?_ ”  Sam frowns confused. 

“I said ‘We need more wood’.”  Dean grins and smacks Sam’s ass.  “And I don’t mean the kind you’re sporting.”

“Damn.”  Sam blushes.  “You’d think I was fifteen the way this _thing_ keeps popping up every two seconds.”

“Well...”  Dean chuckles warmly.  “I’m not complaining.  We just better cool it a little or we’ll both be too worn out to... _play_.”

Sam drops his hands from the rafter and cups Dean’s face.  He kisses him slow and thorough.  They are both gasping by the time he pulls away.  

He grins and swats Dean’s jean glad behind.  “Get out there and get us some more wood then.”  

Dean snorts and moves to the front door.  “When I get back in, I want you to tell me about you... _just Sam_.”

Sam grabs the pair of flannels he was wearing earlier and slips them on.  “Okay.”  He gives Dean a smirk of his own.  “If you tell me about you... _just Dean_.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Dean throws a parka on over his bare chest and slips his feet into his boots.  He tucks the laces into the top without tying them.  The wood pile isn’t far enough to worry too much about the cold.

He opens the outside door and steps into the wind.  Thankfully the porch cover keeps him sheltered from most of the blowing snow.  He tugs his gloves on and makes his way to the side porch.

He makes three trips into the cabin and stacks the logs neatly along the hearth.  Each time he comes inside, Sam helps unload and gives him a quick smooch.  It is very domestic and Dean could totally get used to that.  

While Dean gets out of his parka and boots Sam dumps a warm pile of clothes onto the bed and starts folding them.  Dean closes the cabin doors up tightly and comes around the fire place to help out.  They are done soon enough and Dean moves to the kitchen to get diner started.

He cuts up a hearty beef stew and sets it to cook in the Crockpot for later.  He blushes while he works and tries to ignore the pleasant buzz he feels from the heat in Sam’s eyes.  Dean sighs.  

He can’t wait to hear what Sam has to tell him about himself, but at the same time he dreads the idea of lying to Sam about his own past.  He wants to keep this newly developed honesty streak going.  He just doesn’t know how.

Dean finishes in the kitchen and looks at Sam.  He is seated at the table again.  This particular arrangement is starting to become a habit.  Dean walks over to the mantel and pulls a worn wooden box down.  He sits across from Sam and opens it up.

Sam raised a questioning eyebrow.

“So...I figure we play a little game of cards to determine who tells a truth about themselves to the other.”  He grins at Sam’s confused expression.  “Just want to keep it fair.”

“Okay.”  Sam nods catching on.  “A simple game.  How about ‘War’?”

“Deal.”  Dean agrees.  “Each loss means a truth from the loser...anything he wants to tell...and a matching answer from the winner... _if_ he wants to tell.”   

Sam frowns and looks thoughtful for a long moment.  “Okay.” 

“If there’s a ‘War’ the winner gets to ask any question he wants.”  Dean adds.  “The loser promises to answer...no matter what.”

Sam snorts.  “Deal.”

Dean smirks and shuffles.  He gives them to Sam to cut and deal out all the cards.  

Sam cracks his neck and his knuckles and looks at Dean with a comically serious expression.  Dean chuckles and rolls his shoulders.  It is on.

 _“1...2...3!”_   They both flip a card.

“Damn!”  Sam groans.  

Dean chortles.  This is going to be more fun then he thought.  

Sam leans back and sighs.  “Okay.” He scratches his beard.  “I lost my virginity with girl at 17 and a boy at 19.”  He grins at Dean and shrugs.  “I never went back.”

Dean raises an eyebrow.  “I was 16 with a girl...17 with a man.  For me?  It depends on the person.”

 _“1...2...3!”_  

He looses.  “When I was a kid I wanted to be a Fireman.”  Dean confesses.

“I wanted to be a writer.”

“Are you?”

“No...not _yet_.”  Sam admits.  “You a Fireman?”

“No.  It was never really in the cards for me.”

_“1...2...3!”_

Dean looses again.  “Once in a while I read trashy romances novels.”

“Wow.”  Sam blinks in surprise.

Dean blushes.  “Its a guilty pleasure.” 

“I like Science Fiction...Fantasy too.  That’s what I want to write...someday.”

_“1...2...3!  War! 1...2...3!”_

“Yes!  My question.”  Dean taps his lips and thinks about what to ask.  So many questions.  “What is your biggest regret...so far?”

“I should have asked my Dad more about himself and my Mom.”  Sam frowns and fiddles with is cards. 

Dean grimaces.  He expected a drunken frat party or crazy hook-up story.  He should have known better.  Sam is not a frivolous man.  He doesn’t know what to say.

“Those things your Mom shared with you...that’s amazing.”  Sam tells him. “I wish I had pressed him for a picture at least....something.”

“It’s not your fault.”  Dean tries to make it better.  “He should have shared his life and your Mom with you.”

Sam shrugs.  “I know, but I could have asked about her more.  When I got older I could have made a better case for him to talk to me.”

_“1...2...3!”_

Sam wins.  “What do you do for a living?” 

“I work for the Park’s Service and National Weather Service...part time.”  Dean smiles at Sam’s surprised look.  “I do odd jobs in town too...a little auto repair...wood working.  Stuff like that.”

“How do afford this place?”

“I bought it a while ago with my Mom’s insurance money.”  Dean tells him.  “I didn’t know what to do with it after she died...so I just put it away until I found this place.”  

“And why here?”

“I did an odd job up here and stayed in the cabin for a few days.”  He lifts a shoulder.  “It was mostly burned out then...abandoned.”  Dean smiles at the memory.  “It was so peaceful I went into town and bought it after the job was done.”  

“What about you?”  He asks Sam.  “What do you do for a living?”

“I used to be a student.”  Sam grimaces.  “I graduated with a Degree in Education right before my Dad died.  I’m taking some time off to...well you know why I’m here.”

“You going to go back to school?”

“Maybe.”

Dean nods and starts the game again.

They go back and forth with less serious questions and answers until the next ‘War’ which Sam wins.

“Hmmm....”  Sam stares at Dean.  “Same question.  What’s your biggest regret.”

“I wasn’t there when a friend needed me.”  Dean finds himself confessing.

“What happened?”  Sam asks softly.

“He was killed.”  Dean closes his eyes.  “If I’d been _there_...he’d still be here.”

“Was he your boyfriend?”

“No!”  Dean snaps and instantly regrets it.  “Sorry.” 

Sam shrugs it off.

“He was my friend.  My only friend really.”  Dean shrugs.  “I was on my own for a long time after Mom died and I didn’t connect all that well with others.”  

“You _connected_ pretty well with me.”  Sam teases.    

Dean barks out a laugh.  “You’re right about that.”

“So...your friend?”

“Right.  I ran into him during a... _job_...”  Dean snorts at the memory.  “He was out of his depth.”  He shakes his head.  “I totally saved his ass.”

“Friends from the start?”  Sam grins.  

“Nah.”  Dean shakes his head and chuckles.  “We just sort of...kept running into each other and the next thing I knew we were working on jobs pretty regularly.”  Dean smiles ruefully.  “He was kind of like the Dad I never had, but equal at the same time.  You know? 

Sam nods.  “That’s cool.”

“Ya?”  He looks at his lap and sighs.  “I didn’t save him when he needed me too.”  

“Hey.”  Sam waits until Dean looks up.  “What did you tell me?  Sometimes ‘Bad shit happens and its just out of your control’.”

“Ya.”  Dean grimaces.  

Sam shakes his head.  “What was his name?”  He pick up the used cards and sets them aside.  

“What?”  Dean has been lost in thought.  Buried in regret.      

“Your friend.”  Sam smiles patiently.  “What was his name?” 

Dean looks at the man he’d grown impossibly close to in these few hours.  His lover with no last name.  Maybe he should share memories of his lost friend with his new one.  It’s a simple idea, but a huge step for him.  He hasn’t talked about John to anyone ever.            

Maybe now was the time?  If he were going to tell anyone, Sam is the one.  Dean takes a deep breath and smiles. “John...John Winchester.”

There is a long moment of utter silence and then Sam leaps to his feet so quickly his chair goes over with a thud.  

Dean stares at him in shock.  Sam is holding himself rigid, his jaw clenched so tight Dean can see it go white.  

“Are you fucking with me?!”  Sam grinds out.

“What?”  Dean surges to his feet.  “ _Sammy_...what the Hell?”  He reaches out and Sam smacks his hand away.  The rejection stings and Dean pulls himself inward.

“Don’t touch me and _don’t_ call me Sammy!”  Sam’s chest heaves and he looks like he is going to pass out from lack of oxygen.    

“Okay... _Sam_.”  Dean holds his hands up in a placating gesture.  “What’s going on?”  

“Have you been lying to me this whole time?!”  Sam asks his voice brittle and full of hurt.  

“Lying?”  Dean is speechless.  He’s only ever told Sam the truth.  “About what Sam?”  Dean asks confused and hurt by an accusation he doesn’t understand.  He crosses his arms in defense against what?  He doesn’t know.  

“Seriously... _Sammy_.”  Dean huffs.  “What the fuck is going on with you?”

“My name is Sam!”  He glares at Dean.  “Sam... _Winchester_.”

Dean blinks and freezes. 

Sam snorts and rolls his eyes.  “As if you didn’t know.”  His voice is sharp.

Dean flinches at the sound of it.  He shakes his head in denial. 

“Yes!”  Sam shouts, his hands balled into fists.  “My Dad?‘  He lets out a harsh laugh.  “His name was _John Winchester!_ ” 

Dean blanches and his knees go weak.  He flails an arm out and catches himself on the edge of the table.  He stares at Sam hard and blinks again.  It’s as if he can’t focus on anything.    

“ _Sam_?”  It can’t be.  John’s son is dead.  The boy’d been killed just like his mother.   Their deaths had pulled John into Hunting.  He knew that.  John had _told_ him that.   

Dean shakes his head.  He needs to see Sam’s face.  He lurches forward and grabs hold of the taller man.  

Sam jerks in surprise.  His face is flush with anger.  He moves to push Dean away, but something in Dean’s eyes stills his hands.  Sam gulps and freezes.     

Dean grips Sam’s face and searches for a resemblance.  Any resemblance to the man he’d known.  _John Winchester._  

A hearty, brave, wonderful man who had trusted Dean to have his back.  A man he knew had loved him like a son.  A man Dean had loved and respected in return.  A man whose loss had torn Dean apart.  A loss he blamed himself for.    

Dean looks at Sam’s face held firmly in his hands.  Sam stares back in confusion.  He should have seen it.  It was right _there_. 

Sam had _John’s_ eyes.  With all that stupid hair covering Sam’s face Dean hadn’t seen it or maybe he hadn’t wanted to.  He sighs heavy and broken.  He takes one last look at his lover’s pained features and bolts for the door.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Dean lets go of his face and Sam staggers away.  His mind is reeling.  Dean was his Dad’s partner?  He can’t wrap his brain around it.

Sam stands numb and shaking at a total loss.  He takes a few minutes for him to register the cold.  He shivers and turns toward the door.  It is wide open.  For a moment, Sam can’t figure out how that happened.  Then he remembers.  

“Dean!”  He shouts and races through the door and onto the porch.  The cold cuts into his face and bare chest.  He barely registers the sharp sting of snow under his feet as he bends his head and steps out onto the porch.  

“Dean!”  He shouts into the wind and strides to the edge.  He searches the snowy wilderness, his eyes wide and frantic.      

“No...no...no...no...”   Dean’s ragged sobs filter to him on the wind.

Sam squints and focuses on the sounds.  He stumbles down the steps on frozen feet and trudges through the snow.  Just beyond the yellow glow of the porch light he finds Dean on his knees.  

“Dean?”  Sam falls to the snow beside him.  “Dean, come back inside.”  He reaches a hand out to touch the man’s shoulder and Dean flinches away.  Sam curses himself for that.  

“No...you can’t be his son.”  Dean growls and stares into the darkness.  “You were dead...he _told_ me...told me you were _dead_!”  

“I’m _not_.”  Sam insists.  “I’m _right here_.”  

Sam waits for Dean to say something...anything.  Nothing comes.  He starts to shake from the cold.  He has to do something, he can’t leave Dean out here like this.  

“John Winchester is my Dad...and you...”  Sam swallows hard.  “ _You_ are the man I’ve been looking for since the moment they told me he was dead.”

Dean sobs and buries his face in his hands.  

“I’m so sorry...so sorry...my fault...”  His shoulders shake.  He starts to rock forward and back.  The picture of misery.  Sam’s heart clenches in his chest.  

“Dean, you have to come back inside.”  Sam reaches out touches Dean on the shoulder.  He’s relieved when Dean doesn’t pull away.  

Dean drops his hands and sighs.  He turns his eyes to Sam and Sam gasps.  

The strong, handsome, confident man who’s made Sam feel everything he’d always thought was missing for his life looks nothing like the lover he’d known not five minutes ago.  This man is a broken wreck.  Sam feels Dean’s despair like a punch in the gut.   

Clearly he’d been right about his Dad’s friend.  A man like Dean doesn’t break like this over a guy he considered just a _partner_.  His Dad had meant something to Dean and for Sam that’s enough.  

Despite his heated accusations, Sam knows in this moment that Dean hasn’t been lying.  It hasn’t been some cruel game.  That much is clear.  The ‘why’ is something they’ll both have to discover.        

“ _Dean...”_ Sam sighs.  “Come home...before we freeze out here.”

Dean just looks at him, blank and lost.  

“ _Come on_.”  Sam coaxes.  

He takes Dean’s hand and tugs him to his feet.  They’re both trembling and stumbling by the time they make their way to the porch steps.  Sam wraps and arm around Dean’s shoulders and gripping the rail he hauls them both up.

They make it into the warmth of the cabin before Dean falls to his knees again.  Sam lets him go gently.  He turns and forces his feet to take him back to the front door.  He closes it with a firm tug and does the same to the inner door.  

When he turns around and Dean is still on the floor.  Sam strips off his wet flannel pants and kneels to remove Dean’s stiff jeans.  Dean makes no move to help him.  Sam huffs, but manages the job.  

He stands up and tosses a few logs on the fire.  He bends and pushes on Dean’s shoulder.  “Get up.  _Dean_. Now!”  His sharp order does the trick.

Dean flinches and rolls onto his knees.  He rises unsteadily to his feet and stands there swaying.  Sam wraps his arm around him again and takes them both to bed.  He pulls back the covers and pushes Dean inside.  He collapses onto the mattress without a sound.  

Sam is panting from exertion, fear, and pain.  He is dangerously close to freaking the fuck out.  He holds it together, barely.   

Sam takes a deep breath and lets it out slow.  His feet are burning and his cheeks sting, but he’s okay and so is Dean.  He gently shoves Dean over and climbs in beside him.  

He settles himself and pokes and prods the other man until he is nestled into his chest.  Sam wraps an arm around Dean’s shivering body and tries to steady his heartbeat.  Sam doesn’t know if they’ll survive the next few hours as friends and lovers, but he wants to.  He sighs deeply.  

Sam wants to know everything.  He deserves to know everything.  He’ll get every last truth about his Dad out of Dean and somehow they’ll make it through.  Sam wills his mind quiet and with Dean in his arms he drifts off to sleep for the second time today.      

 


	12. Chapter 12

_***_

_It is dark in the old warehouse and Dean can barely make out the large pieces of derelict machinery that dot the landscape.  He moves cautiously foreword.  He can’t afford to run head long into whatever has their hands on John._

_Where is he?  Dean checked and double checked the coordinates.  There is no mistake, John should be here.  He sighs and rubs his face.  He hates going in blind, but this is John.  Dean takes a deep breath and tries to calm down._

_He makes quick work of the first two floors.  Nothing.  No evidence of anything supernatural.  No evidence of his friend._

_He clears the third floor and picks the lock to access the roof.  When he eases open the door he knows he’s found something.  There’d been crickets and night birds calling when Dean arrived below, up here there are no sounds at all.  It is unnaturally quiet._

_He pulls his pistol from the back of his jeans and thumbs the safety off.  The bullets are blessed and coated in salt water.  They won’t kill a Demon but they’ll drive one out of its vessels.  He hates to kill the poor bastards the Demons are riding, but odds are they are dead already and if it means John’s life he won’t hesitate._

_Dean makes his way around a large condenser unit and there they are.  There are three of them.  They have John strapped to a makeshift alter.  There is blood running over the sides and dripping onto the roof._

_He lets out all of his breath and fires three times.  Three perfect head shots and three billows of black smoke.  Dean throws himself at the alter, hacking at the ropes that bind John, desperate to save him._

_“John!”  He pulls the limp body of his friend into his arms.  “JOHN!”  Dean screams in anguish._

***

“Dean!”  Someone shouts and shakes Dean’s shoulders.  “Dean...wake-up!”

Dean slides his hand under the pillow and snatches his knife.  He grabs the person touching his shoulder and slams them into the headboard.  He has the knife at the man’s throat before he realizes that he’s in his own bed.  He’s in his own bed...with _Sam_.

He blinks away the memory of John’s bleeding body and lowers the knife.  He sets it on the nightstand with shaking hands and scoots away from Sam’s shocked look.  He hangs his head and rubs his face.

“Jesus...Dean _...Baby_...”  Sam pants.  “It’s just me.”

Dean can feel Sam’s eyes on him.  He doesn’t want to look.  Doesn’t want to see fear in Sam’s eyes.  He sighs.  

He has to have one last kiss though, one last touch, before Sam pushes him away forever.  Dean takes Sam’s face in his hands and kisses him.  A gentle farewell.  A memory for him to keep long after Sam has run from Dean and his fucked up life.

“I’m sorry Sam.”  Dean sighs when he pulls away.  “I...I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  _Jesus_.  He’d let John die a the hands of a couple of bottom dwelling Demons and now he’d almost hurt Sam.  John’s _son_.  

Dean doesn’t understand.  John told him all about Kara and little Sammy, how they died, and how he became a Hunter.  Hell, Dean had taught John how to track and kill the Demon that’d done it.  Nearly 10 years of friendship and at the center of it one huge lie.  Why?

“Hey.”  Sam reaches out and touches Dean’s face.  “We’ll figure this out ok?”

Dean raises a skeptical eyebrow.  “How Sam?”  He snorts.  “This is so fucked up.  I...I...don’t even know where to start.” 

“It’s okay.”  Sam takes his hand and squeezes.  “I know you had no idea who I was...I mean why would you?  If you thought my Dad’s...your friend John’s son...was dead.”

Dean flinches. 

“Why?”  He looks at Sam as if Sam would know.  “Why did he tell me you were dead?  I don’t get it.”

Sam frowns and shrugs.  “The original ‘mystery man’ remember?”

He sighs.  Sam is right.  John had never been much of a talker and when it came to his past he rarely divulged any personal information, but neither had Dean.  

The job had brought them together and they’d formed an unlikely friendship.  A friendship rooted firmly in the present.  John had filled the ‘never had a Dad’ void in Dean’s life and Dean’d always assumed that he’d occupied the role of ‘long lost Son’ in John’s.

Dean lets go of Sam’s hand and stands up.  He goes to the dresser and pulls on another pair of jeans.  He tosses Sam a pair of his own jeans from the folded stack on the top of the dresser and heads into the kitchen.  He grabs them both another beer and sits at the table.  

“Someday we might actually have a non-serious discussion at this table.  What do you think?”  

“Ya.”  Sam cracks a fleeting grin.  They settle in their respective chairs and turn a bit toward the fire.

He hopes Sam will consider staying, even though Dean is certain he’d bail after all his questions are answered.  Any sane person would.

“So...where do you want to start?”  

Dean ducks his head, nervous and trying hard not to show it.  He doesn’t know where to begin and the last thing he wants is for Sam to think he’s crazy.  Usually he doesn’t care what civilians think one way or the other, but this is Sam.

Sam sighs and stares at the fire.  “Start at the beginning.”  He turns and smiles sadly at Dean.  “But first, you should know that I...I don’t want to leave Dean.”    

Dean jerks his head up in surprise.  

“I’m in this no matter what.”  Sam gives him that serious look.  “ _I promise_.”

“Sam...Sammy...”  Dean chokes and clears his throat.  “You don’t know what I’ve done.  You don’t know who I am.  You won’t want to stay after...after you know.”

Sam just looks at him patient and understanding.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”  Dean swallows and looks away.

“Dean.”  Sam touches him on the shoulder and lets his hand drop to the table.  “You don’t know me all that well yet either. Hell...”  He chuckles.  “You may not want _me_ to stay.” 

Dean looks at Sam long and hard.  

“Sam I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me.”  He takes Sam’s hand and tells him the truth.  “You are amazing and this time with you has been the best...I...”  He licks his lips.  “Believe me Sam.  Having you here with me...I never imagined...thank you.”

“It’s not over Dean.”  Sam shakes his head.  “Don’t end us before we even get started and remember...this mess is Dad’s doing.  When it comes right down to it...Dad owes us both an explanation.  Since he’s... _gone_...we’ll just have to try and figure it out.  _Together_.”

Dean takes a deep breath and lets it out.  No point in beating around the bush.  He likes that about Sam. 

“Okay...what I’m about to tell you might freak you out.”

Sam looks at Dean and grins.  “You sound like a cheesy B-movie.”

“Ya...I know, but...”  He rubs the back of his neck.  “Well don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  He laughs.  “Okay...that line was even worse.”

“Dean...”  Sam sighs.  “Just tell me.”

Dean swallows.  

“I Hunt...Hunted supernatural creatures.  Evil things...killed them...and...and so did your Dad.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

Sam stares at Dean and blinks.  He can tell Dean is telling the truth as he knows it and frankly there is no reason not to believe him.  Just because he’s never witnessed anything supernatural, doesn’t mean it isn’t out there.  Sam is certain there is weird shit in the world and if his Dad Hunted those things it explained a lot about his secrecy.     

“Okay.”  Sam ventures.  “Why?”

Dean looks blank for a second and then frowns.  “What do you mean why?”

“I mean why?”  Sam huffs.  “Why you?  Why Dad?”

“Sorry.”  Dean flushes.  “It’s just...no one ever asked me that before.”  He shrugs.  “Most people want to know what I Hunt or why they were victims or when it will _stop_.”

“Well, I’m not a victim and I want to know the why.”  Sam fixes Dean with an expectant look.  He can wait all day.  He smiles when Dean huffs and looks at the fire.

“For me it was the ‘Family Business’.”  Dean says like it’s obvious.  “My Grandparents, my Mom, even my Dad...they were all Hunters.”

“That’s what you call yourselves...Hunters?”  Sam grins.  He has to admit it’s a cool moniker.

“Ya.”  Dean shrugs.  “I mean that’s what we do...Hunt things.”

“But not anymore, right?”  Sam asks.  “You said you’ve been up here...what?  A year and a half?  Working for the Park’s Service.”

“I’m retired.”  Dean’s shoulders sag and he leans back in his chair.  He closes his eyes.  “I retired...after John...after your Dad.”  He takes a deep breath.  “John said it was a one-man-job.  Just a standard haunting, salt and burn, like a million others.  No big deal.  I didn’t think...I never should have let him go alone...I’m so sorry Sam.”

Dean opens his eyes and Sam’s heart lurches.  There he is, the broken man all over again.  What had happened?    

“Tell me Dean.”  He encourages him.

“Tell you what?”  Dean’s eyes suddenly blaze.  “Tell you how I was way up _here_ for a little R  & R when I got the text?  How I drove 18 hours straight and when I got there they’d...”  He falters.  “They’d already _killed_ him?”

Sam sits back and swallows hard.  The pain in Dean’s voice is obvious, but the self-recrimination in his eyes is damn near overwhelming.  He can’t allow that to continue.

“Dean...”  He says carefully.  “You didn’t kill him.”  

“Might as well have.”  Dean says clearly miserable. 

“No.”  Sam insists.  “That’s enough.  I don’t believe for a second that his death was your fault or that you let him die.  You’re not that kind of man Dean.”

Dean shakes his head. 

“Dean...I’ve known you for barely 24 hours, but I already know you aren’t that kind of person who leaves his only friend to die.”

“I should have been there Sam.”  Dean whispers.  “I could have stopped it...I _would_ have stopped them.”

“No.”  Sam shakes his head.  “You told me Dad said it was a ‘one-man-job’ and you never would have let him go if you thought he needed you, right?”

Dean looks at Sam, confusion written on his face.  “I don’t know Sam.”  Dean rolls his shoulders and takes a long pull on his beer.  

“Why were you on ‘R & R’ Dean?”  Sam asks.  “Were you hurt?”

Dean flinches and touches the scar on his cheek.  

“What happened?”  He wants to know.

“Werewolf.”  Dean says flatly.  “It got me good.”

“Where was Dad?”  Sam is shocked.  “Weren’t you partners?”

“He was...away.”  Dean mumbles. 

Sam frowns.  “He was seeing me you mean?”

“I guess so.”  Dean says softly.  “It was one of his usual trips to...wherever.”

Sam sighs.  “Why did you go after the Werewolf...by yourself.”  He almost can’t believe he’s saying that term out loud.  

“It had to be taken care of.”  Dean insists.  “I couldn’t let it kill anyone else.”

“Dad must have been thinking the same thing...”  Sam says.  “Don’t you think?”

Dean stares at Sam in surprise.  Sam lets Dean think that over for a few minutes.  Dean needs to let go of the guilt.  He hasn’t known Dean long, but Sam knows that much.  

He takes a sip of his beer and tries to calm down.  After a long moment of silence he asks the question he needs to.  

“What killed him Dean?”  He needs to hear what Dean has to say just as much as he suspects Dean needs to tell it.   

“Demons.”  Dean sniffs and runs a hand over his face.  “They were just some low level thugs.”  He looks at Sam with sad eyes.  “They were looking for fresh blood to work a spell.  They didn’t even know who they had on that alter.”  He lets out a harsh laugh.  “I mean they had _John Winchester..._ one of most badass Hunters that ever kicked Demon ass and they were too stupid to realize it.”

Sam swallows hard.  “How do you know that?”

“Because...”  Dean looks uncomfortable.  “If they’d known who they had their hands on...that they had one of ‘Hell’s Most Wanted’...they’d have called in the big guns and your Dad would have had it much...much worse.”

Sam sucks in a breath and leans forward.  “Did he speak to you?”

“Ya.”  Dean admits.

He swallows a lump in his throat.  “What...what did he say Dean?”  Sam holds his breath.  He wants to hear that his Dad’s last words were about him or to him.  He wants to hear that so bad.

Dean shakes his head sadly.  “He told me what he could about the Demons who nabbed him and what he knew about the haunting.  That’s it.”  Dean gives him a sympathetic look.  “He was Hunter to the end Sammy.  I’m sorry.”  

Sam slumps over the table as disappointment rocks him.  He should have known.  His Dad had kept his entire life secret from Sam and Sam a secret from Dean.  It doesn’t surprise him in the least that his Dad had maintained his deception right to the end.

Dean lays a gentle hand on the back of Sam’s head.  Again no platitudes.  Sam breaths out.  He has to pull himself together.  

“Okay.”  He sits up  “Change of topic.  How did my Dad become a Hunter?”

“Your Mom.”  Dean says evenly.  “Your Mom...Kara...was killed by a Demon and he spent his whole life trying to find it and kill it.”

“Why?”  Sam’s voice cracks and he clears his throat.  “Do you know why?”

Dean frowns and nods.

“It’s okay Dean.”  Sam smiles ruefully.  “I think we’ve already established that you know more then I do about my Dad.”  He forces himself to relax.  This is what he had hoped for.  To find his Dad’s partner and find out what he knew.  “I want to hear everything...no matter what.” 

“She was psychic.”  Dean smiles.  “Not ‘Miss Cleo’ psychic.  I mean, no shit, the real thing.”

“Really?”  Sam can’t believe it.  “My Mom?”  He shakes his head in wonder.  “That explains it I guess.”  

“Explains what Sam?”  Dean takes his hand.

“How I found you.”  Sam grins.  “I told you it was ‘hard to explain’.” 

“Okay...”  Dean grips Sam’s hand.  “Try.”

Sam flushes.  He’d never told anyone about the _thing_ he can do, not even his Dad.  He always thought he was just a freak and no one would understand it. 

“Sometimes...when I really concentrate on a person or thing...”  He confesses.  “I can see where they are.”  He pauses to gauge Dean’s reaction.

“Wow.”  Dean grins.  “Cool!” 

“Ya?”  Sam laughs relieved.  “It’s cool for typical things, you know, like car keys and people I’m trying to find in a crowd.”  He smiles ruefully.  “For other things the visions are really not that helpful...unless I can recognize a place.”  He sighs.  

“When I decided I had to meet my Dad’s partner...had to find you.  I thought about you for months and all I got were flashes of a cabin and the mountains behind it.”  He ducks his head.  “It took me forever to find the right mountain range.  I Google Earth’d like a mad man.”  He chuckles.  “Anyway, that’s how I finally figured out my Dad’s partner was up here.  I just didn’t know which cabin.”

“Awesome!”  Dean flashes him a smirk.  “Glad you found me.”

“Me too.”  Sam smiles and leans over to kiss him.  

Dean sighs and kisses him back.

“So...my Mom?”  Sam asks after a minute.

“Your Dad knew about what she could do, but I don’t think he really believed it.”  Dean tells him.  “After you were born she was really freaked out that something was after you.  She could never really explain it, but she was worried all the time.”  Dean sighs.  “We found out later...when we had the Demon trapped...that he wanted you because of the gift you inherited.”

Sam shudders.  It is hard to accept.  It all seems so fantastical, so nuts.  He looks at Dean and can see Dean waiting for him to deny the truth or worse bolt for the door.  He takes a calming breath and nods for Dean to go on.

Dean nods back.  “Sometimes they use gifted humans for rituals and... _stuff_.”  He shrugs like there is nothing else to say on the subject.  He probably assumes that Sam doesn’t need to hear or imagine the details.  Sam is grateful for that.

“I think they thought she was an easy target, but your Mom...”  Dean beams and Sam grins back.  “Man she kicked ass.”  

If he never hears another word about his Mom, the fact that Dean said she kicked ass makes Sam proud and happy.  It’s absurd really, he hasn’t given her a thought in over twenty years, and yet he feels suddenly like this one bit of knowledge finally settles her in his heart.  

“The Demon we captured...the big man in charge...he was still pissed at your Mom.”  Dean chuckles.  “She took out one of his henchmen with your Dad’s baseball bat...before he...before he killed her.”  He shakes his head.  “She was defending you Sammy.  She had to, right?  She was your Mom man, she would have fought like a Lioness.”

Sam sucks in a breath and wipes away tears.  His Mom.  Saved his life.  _Jesus_.  

“You Dad was downstairs.”  Dean goes on.  “She screamed for him and he ran up.”  He shakes his head.  “He told me your Mom was dead already.”  Dean grimaces.  “Your Dad saw this ‘Yellow-eyed’ man standing over your crib and your Old Man took a couple shots at him.”

“No shit?”  Sam is as shocked by that idea as any he’d heard.  He knew his Dad knew firearms.  Hell he’d made Sam practice enough growing up, but armed in his own home and shooting at an intruder was just not something he’d ever pictured his Dad doing.  

“Ya.  Your Old Man was a Marine Sammy.  He heard his wife screaming...he didn’t mess around.”

“Why’d he lie Dean?”  Sam tries to understand, he just can’t.  “Why’d he lie about me?”

“I don’t know if we’ll ever figure that out Sam.”  Dean slumps in his chair again.  “Maybe it was as simple as wanting to keep you safe.  Away from the Demon.  Away from his new life as a Hunter.”

Sam nods.  “That makes as much sense as anything we’ve got I guess.”  He scratches his beard and sighs.  He needs to know one more thing, the big question, the one he’d been avoiding.  “How’d he die Dean?”    

Dean scowls and squeezes his eyes shut.  “He’s gone Sam.  Does it matter?”  He looks at him, eyes bright.  “Do you really need all the details?”

“Maybe not all the details.”  Sam swallows hard.  “It wasn’t a Heart Attack.  Was it?”

Dean turns to the fire.  “They killed him Sam.  Got the drop on him when he was looking for that stupid Ghost.  They knocked him out, but he came to long enough to make a break for it.”  He smiles.  “He was pretty crafty your Old Man.”

Sam smiles sadly.

“He busted out and sent me a text with coordinates before they chased him down again.”  Dean shrugs his shoulders.  “He wasn’t a young man anymore and that blow to the head really must have took it out of him.”  Dean lets out a slow breath.  “They hauled him up to the roof and started working their spell.”

Sam sucks in a breath as tears start to fall.  “Did they...did they... _hurt_ him all that time?  18 hrs...”

“These Demon rituals...”  Dean nods sadly.  “They take _time_...and when I found him John was too far gone.”  Dean sniffs and wipes his face.    

They sit in silence for along while.  Sam shifts in his seat.  “If you didn’t know about me then, how did I get the phone call?”

“That was part of your Dad’s last wishes.”  Dean tells him.  “Every Hunter has someone to...handle things for them.  You don’t ask questions, you just follow the instructions.”

Sam frowns.  

“He had one phone number that he wanted official notification made to and he wanted them to provide cause of Death as a Heart Attack.”  

“It wasn’t you who called me.”  Sam knows that for sure.  Dean’s honey smoked voice would have been burned into his brain.  The person who called Sam had been completely impersonal.

“No.  I bribed a guy at the local Police Station to make the official call.”

“Wow.”

Dean shrugs.  “It was what your Dad wanted.”  

Sam nods.  “What about the cremation and his effects?”

“I gave him a Hunter’s Funeral...I’ll explain that some other time.  I packaged up what he wanted sent to the address on his list.”  Dean grimaces.  “The insurance company took care of the bills and I sent the Urn with all the rest of the paperwork.”

“I got everything Dean.”  Sam reassures him.  “Thank you.”

Dean nods.  “Did the car make it one piece?”  

“The Impala was his prize...I did know that much about him.”  Sam chuckles.  “Thanks for taking care of her.” 

“No problem.”  Dean chuckles.  “I had a Hell of a time finding someone who could ship that car without damaging it.  You still have her right”

Sam looks at Dean in surprise.

“Of course.”  He’d never let that car go.  He’d spent too much of his childhood listening for her familiar rumble and counting the days until she pulled into the driveway again all black and sleek.  “She’s my only link to him and she’s an amazing car.”

Dean nods obviously pleased.  “The Impala was your Mom’s, did you know that?”

Sam shakes his head no.

“She took it into the garage where you Dad was working after he came back from his tour in Vietnam.”  Dean tells him.  “That’s how they met.”

“He was a Mechanic?”  Sam is surprised.  

“Ya.  Your Mom was going to college at the time.”  Dean says.  “That’s all I know.  Its not much, but I figured you’d want to hear that.”

“Yes.”  Sam sniffs and wipes his face again.  “Thanks for explaining all this Dean.”

Dean blushes.  “Sure Sammy.”

“I’m sorry he lied to you.  I know that it must be hard to learn that...that he hid so much.”

Dean sighs.  “Hunter’s all have their secrets Sammy.  Your Dad was no exception.”  He suddenly turns and smiles at Sam.  “At least all this explains where he went all the time.  I mean I always figured he had a little something on the side...”  Dean wags his eyebrows.  “I just never imagined that it was his Sasquatch of a Son.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”  Sam waves him off with a mock glare.  He is thankful for Dean’s sense of humor.  It eases the heaviness.  “You’ll have to do better then that.”

“We okay Sam?”  Dean asks his shoulders suddenly tense.  His eyes on the fire.

Sam studies his lover for a long moment.    

“Ya. Dean.”  On impulse he stands up and in two steps he’d straddles Dean’s lap.  He bends down and kisses the startled man breathless.  “We’re good.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Dean takes a deep breath when Sam pulls back and sighs in contentment.  This thing with Sam is wonderful and terrifying.  He smiles up at him.

“Just wanted to get that out of the way.”  Sam grins, all sexy dimples.

“Anytime big boy.”  Dean grins.  “Now get off me.  I’ve got something to show you.”

Sam rubs their cocks together, just a quick tease.  Dean flushes and forces himself to focus on the ceiling.  Sam chuckles and stands up.    

Dean moves his chair of the heavy throw rug and gestures for Sam to do the same.  “Help me with this table will you?”

Together they move the small table off the rug.  Dean bends down and rolls the rug up to reveal a trap door.

“Tell me that’s not a Dungeon.”  Sam says.  “I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think I’m into that hard core stuff.”

“No Dungeon.”  Dean snorts.  “Vault.”  He pulls the door open and lays it flat against the plank floor boards.  He hops down into the space and kneels on the cold ground facing the fireplace.

“When I rebuilt the fireplace, I added a fireproof vault.”  He explains.  Dean reaches out and opens the heavy steel door.  In the space behind it there is a medium sized fire proof trunk.  

He grasps the handles and pulls it out.  He stands up and hands the trunk to Sam.  He closes the vault and climbs up off the ground.  

Sam closes the trap door and stands by the table.

Dean smiles and opens the trunk lid.  Inside there are a series of leather bound journals.  Six in all.  

“These are Hunter’s journals.  Every Hunter keeps one.”

“What’s in them.”  Sam asks.  He runs a curious hand along the spines.

“Everything a Hunter needs to know about Hunting.”  Dean tells him.  “Hunters record the where, when, type of supernatural creature, how to defeat it, what works and what doesn’t.  They keep contact information for other Hunters or people who are Hunter friendly.”

“Wow.”  Sam nods appreciatively.  “Are these all yours?”

“No.”  Dean shakes his head.  “This one is my Grandpa’s, this one Grandma’s, this one belonged to my Dad, and this one’s my Mom’s.” 

“And this one?”  Sam indicates the next journal in line.

“That’s mine.”  Dean smiles.  “This one...”  He pulled out the last one in the trunk and hands it to Sam.  “This one was your Dad’s.”

Sam takes the book in his hands with obvious care.  

“Sit down.”  Dean tells him.  “I want to show you something.”

Sam takes a seat and sets the journal on the table with shaking hands.

“Now...this journal has a lot going on.”  He lays his hand on it.  “Years and years of notes from your Dad.  It’s probably too much to take in right now.”

Sam looks up at Dean.

“I promise I’ll walk you through every line if you want.”

Sam nods. 

“For now though...I just want you to look at a couple of things.”  Dean beams.  He is so pleased that he can do this for Sam. 

Sam takes a deep breath and relaxes the tension in his shoulders.

“Good.”  Dean gives him an approving smile.  He reaches out and opens the front cover.  He pulls out the two photographs he knows have been there for as long as John had his own Hunter’s journal.  

He watches Sam’s face while he places first one, then the other photo down in front of him.  

“This one is your Mom...”  He points to the first photo.  It has been so carefully handled that it barely shows its age.  “She was pregnant with you.” 

Sam doesn’t take his eyes off the photo as he reaches out to touch it gently.  “This is really her?”

“Ya Sammy.”  Dean smiles.  “She looks great doesn’t she.”

Sam hitches a breath and nods.  Dean can see tears starting to roll.  He can’t imagine what it must be like to see your Mom for the first time.  Dean wants to kick John’s ass for keeping Kara to himself.  

Dean points to the other photo.  “This is you a little before she was killed.”  The picture shows a happy family smiling for the camera; John, Kara, and baby Sammy.

“She was beautiful...wasn’t she?”  Sam chokes and his face crumbles.   

Dean gets up and moves behind Sam’s chair.  He leans down and wraps his arms around the larger man.  He kisses Sam’s cheek and rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder.  Dean just holds him, rubbing his hands lightly over Sam’s chest in comforting circles.  

I takes a while for Sam to find his voice, but Dean doesn’t mind.  

“Thank you Dean.”  Sam whispers finally.  “Thank you for brining her to life.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

Sam sits and stares at his Mom for how long he doesn’t know.  At some point, he feels Dean pull back and place a soft kiss between his shoulder blades.    

“Take all the time you need.”  Dean tells him.  “They’re your photos now.”  

Sam can’t take his eyes off the woman in these photographs.  He wants to memorize her face, her smile, all at once.  In all his boyhood imaginings he never really tried to put a face to the woman who brought him into the world.  It had just been too hard.  

As a young boy when he’d thought about her, dreamed about her, his Mom had always been an abstract figure.  An amalgamation of all of the other Moms he’d seen or met; a phantom ideal.  When he got older he simply stopped thinking about her entirely.  It was easier.   

He sits back with a sigh and rubs his face.  It is salty with dried tears.  He stands up and goes into the bathroom to blow his nose and wash his face.  

By the time he returns to the table, Dean is busy pulling something from the oven.  Sam moves the trunk full of journals off the table and onto the floor near the hearth.  He kicks the carpet back over the trap door and moves the table back into place.  

Sam moves in and squeezes Dean from behind.  It is starting to be his favorite way to say ‘Hello’.  

“Hey.”  Dean responds.  “You okay?”

“Ya.”  Sam sighs.  “Thanks for the time.”

“Sure.”  Dean shrugs.  “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you to not even know what she looked.  I’m glad you found me...if nothing else you got to see your Mom.”

“It’s sad and wonderful.”  Sam tells him.  

“Good.”  Dean turns in Sam’s arms.  “You hungry?”

“Ya.”  Sam nods and gives Dean a quick kiss.  “I’ll set the table.”

They are quickly seated once again.  Dean’s stew and fresh rolls are mouth watering.  Sam hasn’t eaten this good ever.  He smiles at Dean who grins in response.       

“Okay...change of subject.”  Sam says after he finishes his second bowl of stew.  “Tell me about your Mom...I mean if you’re ‘okay’ talking about her.”  Sam sits back and waits.

“My Mom...”  Dean rubs the back of his neck.  “Well...she was a Hunter like her folks.  Samuel and Deanna Campbell.”

“Deanna?”  Sam raises an eyebrow.

“Ya.”  Dean grins.  “Named after my Grandma...”  He snorts.  “It’s a good thing she didn’t name me after Grandpa.”

“Ya.”  Sam grins.  “Sam and Sam would have been _awkward_.”

Dean chuckles.  “The Campbell’s have always been Hunters.  As far back as anyone can remember.  They were well respected in the community.”  He notes with obvious pride.  

“Killing Demons was their thing and they were damn good at it.”  Dean grimaces.  “They were at the top of ‘Hell’s Most Wanted’ list...for a long time.”

“What happened to them?”  Sam tries to keep a firm grip on his curiosity.  He is dying to know more about Dean and about the supernatural world his Dad had left him for.    

“My Mom was raised in the life and they’re really isn’t much room for civilians.”  Dean shrugs.  “So...no surprise...she fell for another young Hunter.  His name was James Miller.  He was good man and a solid Hunter...just not as experienced as the Campbell family.”  He frowns and looks at Sam with sad eyes.  “A Demon used my Dad to get to my Grandparents and it didn’t end well.”  

Sam frowns.  “How?”

“Demons need a human to ride around in.”  Dean explains.  “When they escape from Hell or get called up they’re incorporeal.  Just a billowing cloud of black smoke that needs an anchor.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, but says nothing. 

“They enter a host through their mouth and then they use that human to do their dirty work.”  Dean shakes his head.  “Most of the time the human host doesn’t survive possession.  Demons aren’t very careful with their ‘Meat Suits’.”  He says in a matter-of-fact manner that makes Sam cringe a little. 

“This...”  Dean pats the tattoo Sam had asked about that morning.  “Keeps them out.  It’s a Campbell family tradition.”  He sighs.  “My Dad had a charm with the same symbol and he wore it around his neck all the time.  When the Demons came for my Grandparents they used a human accomplice, some Satanist wannabe or some shit, to cut the charm off my Dad’s neck so the Demon could hi-jack him.”

“ _Jesus_.”

“Ya.”  Dean frowns.  “Usually Demons hi-jack people who are depressed or vulnerable in some way, but really powerful Demons can take whoever they want as long as they’re not warded.  The Demon that came for my Grandparents was one of the strongest Demons my Mom had ever seen and without the charm my Dad had no defenses.”

Sam nods.  He doesn’t quite understand it all, but he knows Dean will teach him.   

“Long story short, the Demon lured my Grandparents out on a job.” Dean sighs.  “My Mom couldn’t go.  She was really sick, some stomach flu she thought.”  He smiles sadly.  “Turned out it was morning sickness, she just didn’t know it yet.”  Dean shakes his head.  

“They might have realized at some point that something wasn’t right.  The Grandparents were great Hunters, so I always assumed they figured it out, but who knows.”  Dean shrugs.  “Either way, the Grandparents didn’t make it back.  When my Dad got home, my Mom didn’t buy his story about a Hunt gone bad, but she played along until she could trap him.”

“There’s a trap for Demons?”  Sam's surprised.  

“Ya.  Its a symbol form ‘The Lesser Key of Solomon’...a ‘Devil’s Trap’.”  Dean points to the ceiling over the kitchen window.  “It looks like that.”

Sam marvels at the intricate design.  “Wow.”  How did he not notice that?  

“You can trick a Demon into a trap or just lay one out and hope they step into it.  They can’t get out until something or someone breaks the outer circle.  Even the really powerful Demons are stuck.”  Dean grins at Sam.  “Incidentally that’s how I knew you weren’t a Demon when you stumbled into my cabin.”

Sam’s eyes go wide in surprise.  “You thought I was a Demon?”

“Sammy...”  Dean smirks.  “I think everyone’s a Demon until I ‘Christo’ them or they cross one of my traps.”

“Christo?”  Sam looks at him confused.        

“If you say the Lord’s name in Latin to a Demon...‘Christo’...it reveals them in their true form.”  Dean tells him.

“No shit?”  

“Their eyes go solid black.”  Dean chuckles.  “Its pretty obvious.”

“Guess I have a lot to learn.”  Sam notes.

“I’ll teach you.”  Dean tells him.  “If you want.”

“Good.”  Sam sighs.  “So...your Dad...Demon possessed Dad...is in the Devil’s whatever...”

“Right.”  Dean nods.  “Mom got him to talk, Holy Water and salt are like acid to a Demon, and she worked on him for nearly a week.  That’s how she knew it wasn’t just some ordinary Demon.”  Dean sniffs and leans back lost in his explanation.  

“Typical Demons are just bottom feeders that got lucky getting out of Hell or maybe they’re sent to do some specific job and they break pretty easy.  Some of them are just too stupid to realize that a Hunter can send them back to Hell.  Others, the smart ones, they talk or try to make a deal.”  He shakes his head in disgust.  

“That’s where they go?”  Sam tries to wrap his brain around the idea that Hell is a real place.  “They don’t die?”  

“Nope.”  Dean shrugs.  “Just back to Hell.  It takes them centuries to fight their way back out again.”

Sam hates to ask, but he wants the whole story.  He wants to know Dean.  “What happened to your Dad?”

“The Demon in my Dad put up a pretty good fight and was pretty far gone by the time he tried to make a deal, but my Mom was having none of it.  She exorcised the black smoke bastard and sent it straight back to Hell.” Dean rubs his neck.  “Dad didn’t make it though.  Without the Demon there to hold his body together...he just couldn’t survive all the damage.”

“She lost her Mom, her Dad... and her lover all at once?”  

“Ya.”

“ _Fuck._ ”  Sam rubs his face.  “I thought I got shafted.”

“I know.”  Dean nods.  “Mom was a wreck for along time after that.  She didn’t even realize she was pregnant until she was like five months along or something.  She was only nineteen.”

Sam sighs heavily.  “She must have been scared.”

“Shitless, she always told me.”  Dean smiles.  “She was tough though and she said that having me gave her a reason to get her shit together.”

Sam smiles and reaches out to wrap his fingers in Dean’s.

“She was my best friend Sam.”  Dean looks at him.  “Not in the ‘Norman Bates’ kind of way...the she was my favorite person kind of way.  She was just _awesome_. I never needed anyone else.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

“When Mom got sick we stopped Hunting and she found a little place we could rent cheap while she went for treatment.”  Once Dean started talking about her, he couldn't seem to not tell Sam everything.  He smiles ruefully.  He’d spent nearly 10 years with John, off and on, and had managed to keep himself to himself, but with Sam it was like all barriers were suddenly gone.    

“How did you manage school and all that?”  Sam asks.

“Mom homeschooled me while I was growing up and she made me get my GED.  While she was at the Hospital I studied and in the afternoons I worked at the local garage, doing Oil Changes, and quick turn stuff.”  He shrugs.  “I made enough to keep gas in the car and little things like that.  Mom worked at a diner that gave us free meals so there wasn’t much else to cover.”

“That must have been tough.” 

“Nope.”  Dean grins.  “It was the best we’d had it in a long time...sad...but true.”  He shrugs.  “We had a safe place to live, free all you could eat meals, a little Mad Money, and enough free time to enjoy simple things like going to the movies.”  

Sam frowns.

“Don’t.”  Dean reaches for him.  “I’m serious...it was the best last six months we could have ever asked for.”  He looks Sam in the eye and tells him honestly.  “She was as happy as I’d ever seen her and the Cancer didn’t get really painful until the last few weeks.”

Sam gives him  a sad smile, but nods.

“The last month or so we racked up some serious Credit Card bills...all fancy restaurants and stuff.  Man it was great.”  Dean shakes his head.  “Good thing they weren’t ours.”

“You stole them?”  Sam is clearly shocked. 

“Didn’t I mention that?”  Dean laughs at Sam’s expression.  “Reality check Sam.  Hunters don’t get paid.”

“Oh, I just thought...”  Sam clears his throat.

“What?  The Hunters were all law abiding citizens?”  Dean can’t help but tease.        

Sam looks embarrassed and ducks his head.  “I guess I just assumed...that you and Dad had a real job on the side or something.  I mean Dad always seemed to have money to spend.  He even gave me an allowance.”

Dean frowns, the sudden revelation that your Dad’d been out Hunting the supernatural for your entire life was a lot to take in.  That fact that he financed it with Credit Card theft, pool sharking, and other shady pursuits probably wasn’t something Sam needed to hear.  

“Well...”  He hedges.  “Your Dad was good at making a quick buck when he needed it.” 

“Oh.”  Sam gives him a skeptical look, but lets it go.  

Dean will explain the ins and outs of Hunter finances at a later time. 

“So did you get your GED?”  Sam wants to know.

“Yep.  Passed with flying colors.”

“Cool.”  Sam grins. 

“Ya.  Mom was really proud.”  Dean smiles remembering the big deal she’d made of it.  He’d been embarrassed, but happy that she was happy.  It’d been a long time since he’d seen his Mom’s smile so carefree.  

“What happened after that.”  

“She did the treatments for a few months.”  Dean turns to look at the fire.  He hated to remember her like that, so weak, so pale and exhausted.  “When it started to not look so good she got a Lawyer and had me declared an Emancipated Minor.’

“Really?  Why?”

“Dad was gone, she was dying, and she didn’t want me to be stuck in some Bullshit Foster situation or whatever.  So she set me up to be free of all that.”

“Wow...she was a smart Lady.”

“Ya.”  Dean nods.  “Always thinking.”

“What did you do?”  Sam shakes his head.  “I mean you were what?   Sixteen, right?”

Dean looks at Sam and tries to imagine what he must be thinking about it all.  Sam’s life wasn’t typical, but it’d been pretty conventional all things considered.  Dean’s had been anything but.

“I gave her a Hunter’s Funeral and hit the road.”

“Simple as that?”

“Ya.”  Dean frowns at Sam’s confusion.  “I could have done anything I guess...”  He laughs.  “Become  a Fireman or something, but I...believe it or not...I wanted to save people.  People that normally wouldn’t be saved, because they get trapped in a world that regular folks don’t or won’t recognize.  Those people need rescue too.”

“That’s amazing Dean, you know that?”  Sam takes hold of his hand and smiles at him.  “Most teenage boys might dream about saving the world, but very few would choose to dedicate their lives to doing just that.  You’re...”  He raises an eyebrow.  “You’re something else.”

Dean blushes.  “Well...thanks I guess.”  He squeezes Sam’s hand and let go.  “But I just did what I wanted and what I knew.”

Sam chuckles and lets it go.  “When did you meet my Dad?’

“ _The_ John Winchester?”  Dean grins.  “I saved his ass from a Poltergeist about a year after Mom died.”

“No shit?”

***

_Dean is in the back of the house looking for the stairs to the Attic.  Poltergeists are always in the Attic.  He needs to find its remains and salt and burn the Bastard before it pushes anymore kids down the stairs.  Next time it might actually kill someone._

_The house is silent and Dean moves quietly through the almost empty space.  The family who lived here has already begun to pack up.  They only lasted two weeks._

_Dean turns at the end of a long hallway and sees a flash of light.  He steps back and braces against the wall.  There shouldn’t be anyone or anything else here besides him and the spook.  He takes a deep breath and peeks around the edge._

_He sees the unmistakable shape of a shotgun and jerks back behind the wall.  The boom echoes in the darkness and Rock Salt tears into the corner of the wall just above his head._

_“Shit!”  Dean shouts.  “What the Hell man?”_

_“Wha...?”  He hears a surprised grunt._

_“I’m human you Douche!”  Dean grumbles.  “Put the gun down and I’ll come out.”  He shakes his head.  Amateurs man._

_“Okay.”  The voice is male and a little steadier._

_Dean sticks a hand out and waves.  “Don’t shoot alright?”_

_“I won’t.”  The man says._

_Dean isn’t sure if he believes that or not.  He peeks around the edge and blinks.  “Dude.”  He grumbles.  “Flashlight.”_

_“Sorry.”  The man fumbles the flashlight up and out of Dean’s face._

_“Okay.”  Dean says with his hands in the air.  “I’m Dean Campbell.”  If the other man is a Hunter he’ll recognize the name and they can get back to work._

_“The name’s John.”  Is all the man says._

_“You a Hunter John?”  Dean asks, trying to stay patient._

_“A what?”  John adjusts his grip on the shotgun._

_“Christo!”_

_John frowns and stares at Dean in confusion._

_“Great.”  Dean sighs.  “An amateur.”_

_“I’m not an amateur.”  John growls, but he looks embarrassed and shuffles his feet._

_“Yes you are.”  Dean snorts.  “If you were a Pro you’d have recognized the name.  The Campbell’s are legends.”  He crows proudly.  He can’t help but be a little cocky.  “I’ve been doing this all my life buddy and you suck.”_

_John huffs.  “You want to get this job done kid or give me shit?”_

_Dean grins and shrugs.  “Both.”  He says and shoves past John to the end of the hall._

_He studies the wall and frowns.  According to the original build plans it should be here._

_“What are you looking for?”  John asks._

_Dean jumps a little and sighs.  He’d forgotten for a second the man was behind him.  He wasn’t used to working with a partner anymore and the big man was surprisingly stealthy._

_“The door to the Attic.”  He explains._

_“There’s nothing there son.”  John says._

_“I’m not your son...Old Man.”  Dean scowls.  “And there is something here...”  He reaches out and taps the wall until he finds a hollow sound.  “Someone just boarded it up and painted over it.”_

_Dean pulls his knife from his belt and starts to work it into a seam in the wood paneling.  The man John helpfully holds the flashlight so he can see._

_Soon enough there is an obvious crack in the wall and Dean carves out enough space to get his fingers behind the edge and pull.  The large panel pops off with unexpected ease._

_“Wow.”  John says.  “How’d you know?”_

_“Went to the Court House and did some research.”  Dean shrugs.  “Step number one.”_

_John sighs, but says nothing._

_Dean tucks his knife away, fishes a flashlight out of his pocket, and pulls his sawed off shotgun from the holster on his back.  He racks a shell and takes a deep breath._

_“Don’t do anything stupid like shoot me okay?”  He tells John._

_John snorts.  “Okay kid.”_

_“It’s Dean asshole.”  He snarks._

_He creeps up the stairs.  The Attic is small and hasn’t been opened up in who knows how long.  There is a think layer of dust and a nasty musty staleness.  Dean sweeps the shotgun and the light around the space and sees nothing._

_“It empty.”  John whispers._

_“Thank you Captain Obvious.”  Dean mutters.  He lowers his gun and sighs.  “Just means we have to look harder is all.”_

_Dean shoulders his shotgun and starts poking around in the corners.  John moves toward the Chimney and that’s when the resident Poltergeist decides it doesn’t want company.  The temperature drops suddenly and Dean turns toward John._

_John frowns and looks around the space in confusion._

_“Its coming.”  Dean shouts.  He can’t believe this guy doesn’t recognize the signs.  “Let’s bail!”_

_John turns.  “I’m here to kill this thing kid.”  He says.  “Not run from it.”_

_The Poltergeist materializes right behind John and grabs the big man by the throat.  Startled John drops his shotgun and it blast a Rock Salt pattern into the roof.  His hands fly to his throat, but Poltergeists are strong and Dean knows he doesn’t stand a chance at getting those deadly hands loose._

_“Hey ugly!”  Dean shouts and rushes toward the struggling pair.  He pulls a handful of salt from his pocket and tosses it into the Poltergeist’s face.  It screams in surprise, flashes, and disappears._

_John collapses to his knees and pants for breath._

_Dean kneels down and puts a hand on his shoulder._

_“Just breathe okay.”  He couches.  “I’ve got to find its ‘hidey-hole’ before it comes back.”_

_Dean starts a frantic search of the Chimney and finds a loose brick.  John quickly joins him and in no time they’ve got half the false Chimney removed.  They can already smell old death._

_“Someone stuffed him in there?”  John asks._

_“Ya.”  Dean says.  “Very Poe.”_

_John snorts._

_“We have to hurry.”  Dean tells him.  “They’re more powerful the closer they are to their body, but the longer they’re corporeal the longer it takes to recharge okay?”  He sighs.  “That’s why we should have drawn it out into the open for as long as possible.”_

_He can’t believe he’s given some random amateur a lesson in Poltergeists one-oh-one.  “Don’t let it get a hold on you again...they’re crazy strong and salt only works so well you know?”_

_“Noted.”  John nods as he works._

_The body is wrapped in an old moldering sheets and they almost have it out when the Poltergeist manifests again.  Dean turns in time to see it and shove John out of the way._

_He kicks the Poltergeist in the stomach and rolls out of its grasp.  The Poltergeist screams again and throws himself at Dean who scrambles out of the way and around behind the Chimney._

_When he comes around the corner.  John and the Poltergeist are squared off like fighters in some absurd boxing match._

_“John...”  Dean calls.  “Draw it out remember!”_

_John nods and turns to follow Dean down the stairs.  He trips over a loose board and goes down on one knee.  Dean tosses a hand full of salt, but the Poltergeist is too fast._

_It has its hands on John’s throat again before the big man can get to his feet.  Dean pulls his shotgun and takes a shot.  He catches the Poltergeist across the shoulders, but it ignores the blow intent on strangling the life out of John._

_Dean jumps onto the Poltergeist’s back and pulls his knife.  It’s Silver and coated in salt.  He saws at the Poltergeists neck until the specter starts to weaken and fade.  It disappears with a soft pop._

_John is out cold.  Dean finds a pulse and sighs in relief.  He rushes over to the Chimney and yanks the corpse loose._

_He drags it past John’s prone form and out of the house to the back yard.  He dowses it with lighter fluid from his pack and salts it.  He lights it on fire and heads back into the house._

_“Hey.”  Dean smacks John hard across the face.  They can’t afford to stay here any longer.  The neighbors have probably called the cops by now.  John groans and tries to get up._

_“John!”  He shouts.  “Move your ass!”_

_That gets the big man going and Dean manages to get them both outside and away from the house before the police are pounding on the door.  They sit in the dark and catch their breath while the cops search the house and find the burnt remains in the back yard._

_“You got a car?”  Dean asks._

_“Ya.”  John croaks.  “About a mile from here.”_

_“Good.”  Dean growls.  “You can give me a ride back to my Hotel and then...you can Fuck Off!”_

***

Sam is grinning.  

“What?”  Dean asks.  “I was pissed okay?  He just about got us both killed.”

“I’m know.”  Sam smiles.  “I’m just...really glad you told me that story.  Thanks Dean.”

“Ya?”  

“Ya.”  Sam smiles.  “I’m happy you two met.”  

“Me to Sammy.”  Dean smiles.  “He was...really important to me.”

“I know.”  Sam nods.  “I want to hear everything okay?”

“Sure Sam.”  Dean shrugs.  “Its a long story though...”  He stands up, stretches and looks down at his lover.  

“I’ll have to stick around to find out all the details then.”  Sam reaches for Dean’s hand and pulls himself up.  

“Might take a long time to tell the whole tale.”  Dean musses.    

Sam sighs.  “We have all our lives I think.” 


	17. Epilogue

Dean looks at Sam.  He’s in his jeans, bare footed, bare chested, and grinning like a fool.  His anti-possession tattoo is dark against his skin.  Dean runs his fingers over it out of habit. 

“Dean.”  Sam blushes and looks at his feet.  “I got something for you.”  He nods toward the table which is piled high with presents.  

“What the Hell Sam!?”  Dean blurts.

Sam shrugs.  “It’s your Birthday man…”  

“No…Sam…sorry.”  Dean stutters.  “I just…”  He shrugs.  “I haven’t had a birthday…or presents in a really long time.”

Dean pulls Sam into his arms and hugs him tight.  “Thank you.”  He whispers.  

Sam relaxes against him and chuckles.  “Don’t thank me yet…you might not like any of them.”

“Right.”  Dean snorts and turns to look at the carefully wrapped packages.  “I thought we agreed no gifts?”  

“That was for Christmas.”  Sam sighs.  “Birthday’s are entirely different.”

“Okay.”  Dean chuckles.  “Just wait until May.”

“Good.”  Sam grins.  “Now open them!”

Dean tears through everything in a rush.  Moments later he’s surrounded by treasures only Sam would think of.  Each one chosen with obvious love and affection.  He sighs in contentment.  

“Thanks Sammy.”  He looks into his lovers eyes.  “For everything.”        

Sam smiles.  “Here’s one more.”  He hands Dean a small wrapped item, obviously another book.

Dean shakes his head.  They added space for an office and a library onto the cabin over the summer and when Sam isn’t busy working as an online instructor or writing stories, he seems determined to fill the new rooms with books.

Dean takes it and slowly removes the wrapper.  The cover is black with a ghostly women shimmering on the cover.  It is entitled ‘The Women in White’ by James Miller.  

He blinks in surprise. 

“Its your first case...”  Sam explains.  “Your first real case...with Dad.”  He grins.  “I found an independent publisher who loved it.”  He blushes.  “I want to write all of your stories...and share them.”  

Dean runs his hands over the cover and examines every detail.  

“I hope you don’t mind.  I needed a ‘Pen Name’ and I thought why not your Dad?”  Sam says softly.  “I figured Campbell or Winchester would be too...well...someone might recognize those names.”

Dean nods.  “I can’t believe it Sam.”  He smiles.  “I’m so proud of you.”  He sniffs and wipes his face.

Sam shrugs and blushes.  “I just wrote your words Dean...you and Dad.”

“No.”  Dean shakes his head.  “I’m sure you made them much better.”  He insists.

Sam has a way with words that fascinates Dean.  He’s read every story Sam has ever written and he is consistently amazed and amused by his lover’s brain. 

Sam smiles and kisses him.  “Love you.”  Sam says softly.  

Dean smiles.  “Love you too Sammy.”  

“Open it up.”  Sam guides his hands until they reach the dedication page.

Dean sucks in a breath and stares down at the words for along time.  

“I thought…”  Sam shrugs.  “Maybe with each story we could dedicate it to a Hunter or their family…a small thing to remember them.”  He smiles.  “What do you think?”

Dean clears his throat and reads the dedication out loud.  

“To Mary and James, John and Kara...for your devotion and sacrifice.  You will remain in our hearts until we met again.  With all our love, your Sons.”

He looks at Sam.  “Perfect.”  

DONE

Thank you for reading.  I hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you Kripke and Co., J2, the Writers and Staff for bringing Supernatural to life.


End file.
